


Dissent

by bumpkinn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Ahsoka - E. K. Johnston, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 1 Year after Siege of Mandalore, Action/Adventure, Ahsoka is trying her best, Ahsoka needs a hug, And Rex would give her one in a heartbeat if she just asked, Angst, Hera's a young whipper-snapper, Post-Order 66, She's a badass but also a sadass, and kanan doesn't know what a girl is, forehead smooch, kanera - Freeform, possible M rating in future, rexsoka, the slowest burn, this shits gonna be realistic, very slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumpkinn/pseuds/bumpkinn
Summary: Ahsoka is honestly doing quite alright for an ex-Jedi on the run whose world has just collapsed around her, and who has just witnessed all of her soldier-friends try to kill her, and who has only a few skills outside of strategizing and fighting and lightsaber-ing.At least Kanan is doing a bit better, that is, until Hera Syndulla shows up and decides to ruin whatever he had going for him by dragging him back to the hero-lifestyle he’d sworn he’d given up.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 210
Kudos: 302





	1. Raada

Chapter 1: Raada

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

Ahsoka was very good at being a mechanic, if she did say so herself.

She could fix broken tools, repair damaged ships, install new parts to old droids, and fix new droids with old parts. She could take any little piece of junk that she picked up and tinker with it until she found a way to make it useful. In fact, their shop was so full of bits and bobbles like this that it was practically overflowing with them.

Spare springs dangled dangerously off of the shelves. Nuts and bolts were piled haphazardly in the corners of the room. Gears were stacked perilously high on the tables, teetering more and more with each one she added on.

It was far more things than Ahsoka had ever been used to having, but she was starting to adjust. There was simply no sense in keeping an empty room in accordance with the modest Jedi traditions if she wasn't one anymore.

Rex, however, seemed to disagree. Every time he stepped inside their humble shop, ducking under the doorframe since it was a bit too low for his head, an expression came over him that looked like he was about to detonate from the inside out. He stared at the tumbling disarray of parts like they were the scampering rats that roamed Coruscant's junkyard on Level 1782. His sharp jaw ticked and his fingers fidgeted madly against his side. Ahsoka swore she could see a vein threatening to burst on his forehead.

"This is chaos," he said.

"It's organized chaos," she objected, keeping her eye on work from where she sat on the floor. Her client had dropped off the astromech a couple days ago and she needed to get it back to him by tomorrow at the latest. She narrowed her eyes as she twisted her wrench around a particularly rusty bolt, working to free the shoulder hydraulics.

Rex shook his head. "I don't like it," he muttered, setting down his pack of tools by the door. She watched him from the corner of her eye move over to the caf maker on the table, warily eyeing a tower of helical gears as he stepped around them.

"I know where everything is this way." She bit down on her lip and yanked the wrench to the right. The bolt popped off as it finally came free, clattering to the floor.

"Damn!"

A loud crash resounded in the room as a bucket toppled over somewhere in the nearby vicinity of Rex. Screws and coils spilled out onto the floor, clanging noisily as they scattered this way and that. After a few extended moments of ruckus, the last screw rattled to a halt a few inches from Ahsoka's foot.

"Ahsoka, we can't live like this," Rex groaned, running a hand exasperatedly over his head. His hair was still buzzed, maybe a bit longer, but it wasn't blonde anymore. It matched the new, scruffy look of his stubble. Ahsoka wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Hestu stopped by an hour or so ago," she went on, ignoring his statement. "He needs you to fix his blaster rifle. He left it over on the table." She removed the last bolt from the astromech's shoulder before removing the plate and exposing the fine wiring. Something was wrong with its circuitry in the left side, and she was determined to figure out what. But it was such an old model of the Q7 R-series that its outdated parts made it difficult to identify the mechanisms.

"Hestu?" Rex echoed, giving up on changing her mind and returning to his previous mission of brewing a fresh pot of caf.

"The owner of the general store just down the road."

"Ah," he paused, "that Hestu."

Things had been going well for the two of them, relatively. They'd been on Raada for about five months now, marking it as the longest stay they'd had since they first went on the run. The main trade of the somewhat unremarkable planet was farming, meaning there were plenty of people who needed plenty of droids, plows, and tools fixed. It was busy enough to keep things interesting but quiet enough for them to lay low. They could only hope that this Outer Rim rock managed to stay untouched by the Empire at least a little longer.

Once the residents of the largish-village, smallish-town had found out that "Ashla and Rex" the mechanics were good for their money, they'd managed to build up a good number of clients. Sure, she wasn't an engineering prodigy like Anakin had been, but she took what she could get. There was even a handful of people that they'd go hang out at a cantina with when the workweek ended— friends, if they could call them that. People would bring her their broken tools and droids and bring Rex their damaged blasters and ships, and they made enough credits to get by. It was a pretty flawless operation.

When it came to the 'lying low' bit, Rex had claimed that his name was common enough that there must be "hundreds of lucky men" out in the galaxy with the name. Ahsoka didn't have that luxury, so Ashla the Mechanic became her new alias. It was believable enough. As long as no stormtroopers came to the planet and identified a fellow identical brother and a Togruta, they should be fine.

In all honesty, Ahsoka was doing quite alright for an ex-Jedi on the run whose world had just collapsed around her, and who had witnessed all of her soldier-friends try to kill her, and who only had a few skills outside of strategizing and fighting and lightsaber-ing.

And for a man born of a war and engineered to fight his life away, who'd also been manipulated from the start with a microscopic chip in his brain that rendered him nothing more than a tool, or a weapon, Rex was doing pretty alright, too. 

"I got a coupon today for half-off at that cantina near the shipyard, so we could go there for dinner," Rex mentioned casually, pouring himself a cup of the steaming caf once it finished brewing.

Its warm, nutty aroma filled the air, making the tip of Ahsoka's nose tingle. The fragrance was tempting, and she guessed it was a part of Rex's plan to get her to stop working for once. It worked.

Reluctantly, she set down the wrench by the Q7 and stood up to go pour herself a cup, but stumbled to a halt when black suddenly flooded her vision. She reached blindly for the back of a chair to steady herself, and a moment later, the dizziness faded away and her vision came back. When she blinked open her eyes, Rex was at her side, holding her steady.

"You alright?" he asked, a little alarmed.

Ahsoka shook her head to clear it before nodding and flashing him a smile. "Head rush," she reassured him. She straightened and continued towards the caf maker. She must've forgotten to eat lunch today.

Rex frowned.

"You said you got a coupon?" she reminded him, pulling a grey cup out of a cabinet and pouring some caf into it. She immediately went for a sip, too impatient to let it cool off, and let the drink burn her tongue with her consent.

"Yeah, at that cantina by the shipyard," he replied. He still eyed her carefully as though he expected her to topple over again.

"Oh, the one with the weirdly bright-red door," she recalled, leaning against the counter.

"That's the one."

"Is it any good?"

"Guess we'll find out." He tipped the cup towards his mouth to drain the rest of his caf before stepping towards the front door. "Shall we?" he asked, opening the door and gesturing towards the outside.

Ahsoka gulped down the rest of her burning caf in one swig, setting down the empty cup before turning to walk out the door. "I'm still going to finish the Q7 by tonight," she declared as she stepped past him.

"I don't doubt it," he said as he held the door for her, closing and locking it behind them.

The cantina was noisy. And the bright-red door had matching bright-red walls on the inside that seemed a bit gaudy, if Ahsoka were to be honest. There weren't too many people, but Raada was only so big, and the lurid crimson walls made up for it by making the room seem stuffy and closed in. The food wasn't half-bad, though. Rex got a plate of couscous and fried gorg while Ahsoka munched on a breaded fish of some sort. She thought about picking apart the breading to try to see what it was, but it was probably better if she didn't find out.

"So," Rex started awkwardly. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He apprehensively wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his glove-free hand. Ahsoka wasn't sure she'd ever be used to seeing him in civvie clothes.

"Is it about the parts laying around the shop?" she guessed, "because if it's really bothering you, I can try to organize it a bit more."

"No, not that," he shook his head. Then hesitated. "…Well, yes, in a way, but—"

"Is it about Hestu's blaster? I can fix it you've already got too much on your plate, though—"

"That's not what I'm—"

"Oh! Then you're talking about the radiator on that cargo ship. Once I finish up with the astromech, I promise I'll head over and—"

"No! That's not it," he cut her off exasperatedly. He started to wave his fork in the air agitatedly as he went on. "I'm just trying to say that... well, I'm worried about you, Ahsoka. Things don't seem right at all."

Ahsoka stared at him blankly.

"Look," he began, "I'm not saying you're losing it or anything. I'm just noticing that things… aren't the same anymore."

"Hardly," she interrupted. "We're living under the dictatorship of Sith-controlled Empire now."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," he countered, growing frustrated. He started waving the fork around more intensely, pointing it at her. "I'm trying to say that _you're_ acting different. You sit in the shop from sun-up 'til sun-down, burying yourself in tinny scraps and clanker parts. And the shop," he scoffed, "the shop's a mess. The Ahsoka I know wouldn't have let a speck of dust even _land_ on a surface before she'd wiped it clean of its existence." He set the fork back down on his plate. "It's just not like you."

Ahsoka huffed indignantly, opening her mouth to give a sharp retort but finding she didn't have one. She chose to cross her arms and sit back in her seat instead.

After she'd had a moment to gather her thoughts, she tried again. "Listen," she said slowly, trying to draw the words together, "things are different, now. And I'm just trying to adjust, because that's what we have to do. We don't really have a choice."

Rex watched her, his gaze softening. "'Soka," he said gently, "adjusting doesn't necessarily mean that we have to-"

He was cut off by a Twi'lek bursting through the bright-red door, breathless with his eyes stretched wide. "Stormtroopers!" he exclaimed, putting his hands on his knees to try and catch his breath, "the Imperials are here!"

Panic swept through the cantina like a shockwave, and soon enough, the anxious talking drowned out the noisy music playing in the background. Questions like "what do they want?" and "what are we going to do?" and cries like "we're done for!" and "they'll take everything!" whizzed throughout the cantina, as well as the occasional "maybe they'll put a stop to the unchecked crime," or "it could help stabilize the economy".

The heightened emotion in the room sparked throughout the Force like static electricity around Ahsoka, overwhelming her. She wasn't sure if it was the fear of the people around her or her own that was shaking her.

Imperials meant nothing good. In fact, they meant everything bad.

She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down, reaching out with the Force to feel past the frenzied people in the cantina and out into town, then further and further, until she reached the quiet hills and farmlands beyond the town's limits. She focused on the wheat sprouting from the ground and the trees growing in the orchards, on the rustle of their green leaves in the wind, on the strength of their sturdy roots and on the rivers of life that trickled through their fibers like it did her own. She took a deep breath and felt it.

"Ahsoka," came Rex's voice, startling her. She was suddenly aware of both his hands on her shoulders. He stared at her, worry flicking through his eyes as he searched her expression. "Are you alright?

That's the second time he'd had to ask her that today, she thought. "Yes, I'm alright," she answered, trying to sound reassuring. The Force still felt thick and humid with tension and dread in the room and she strained to feel the serenity of the outside.

Rex hesitated for a moment before reluctantly releasing his grip. "If he's right," he said quietly, glancing at the flustered Twi'lek who was now being handed a drink to calm down, "then we need to leave. We'll pack up our tools and whatever else we need, then we'll set our coordinates for another rock in the Outer Rim," he explained, keeping his voice level.

"Wait," Ahsoka paused, holding up a hand, "maybe we're thinking about this too rashly. Maybe we don't need to leave, yet."

Her own words surprised herself. She absentmindedly chewed at her cheek as she searched for a way to continue.

"I don't see how that's wise," Rex disagreed, shaking his head.

"Rex," she said, jade-blue eyes gazing at him earnestly, "all we've ever done is run. We've just been running and running, ever since…" she trailed off, lowering her gaze somberly, "...ever since it all happened. So maybe this time, we should stop, and stay put." She looked back up at him confidently, placing her finger on the table for emphasis.

"Running has been the best option we've had! If we made one slip up, or if a trooper even _recognized_ me as a brother, we'd be done," Rex argued. His hands tightened into fists. "Ahsoka, the Empire is good at connecting the dots," he said heatedly, lowering his voice to an angry whisper, "and _we're_ the kriffing _dots_!"

"Then we don't slip up," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I already don't use the Force. And I don't have my lightsabers anymore, nor do you have your armor, so we already blend in with the rest of the town. Plus, I heard that they aren't even using the clones anymore. They're phasing them out."

Rex stayed silent. She could almost hear gears in his brain starting to click and grind, turning this way and that as he considered her argument.

"And just in case, we could set up a base, somewhere in the hills outside the town's limits and beyond the farmlands," she went on, reaching out to his inner-military tactician. She hoped she was managing to convince him. She was starting to convince herself, at least. "And we can stash food and weapons, just as a back up if things go bad."

"There could be a cave system in those hills," he murmured, mulling over her words. "We could see if any of them connect and use them for reconnaissance."

"Exactly," she agreed, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She had him.

Slowly, Rex started to nod his head as though he'd reached a calculated conclusion. "Alright, alright…" he said, more to himself than to Ahsoka, "it could work…"

"It will," she said firmly. She reached across the table to put her hand over his. The enticement of long-needed adventure tingled in her fingertips and on the back of her neck under her lekku. "Rex, we can do this. We can stay here, go about our lives as mechanics, and if anything goes wrong…"

She glanced around the cantina, taking it in. It was small, and so was the number of its patrons. She didn't know all their names, but she recognized almost all of them, having fixed something of theirs or another. Nearly all of them had been kindhearted towards Rex and Ahsoka when they'd first arrived. She almost felt a sense of… responsibility.

"If anything goes wrong, we could try to help," she said quietly, confidence etching her tone.

Rex's hand tensed beneath hers, but he kept his gaze steady. "Alright," he conceded, "we'll try to stay this time." His eyes drifted around the cantina where people were beginning to calm down. "And if anything goes wrong, and I mean really wrong, like we-can't-do-anything-about-it wrong," paused, giving her a meaningful look, "then we get out, and run."

Ahsoka nodded solemnly.

But her mind was already starting to drift elsewhere, and she couldn't stop the small smile pulling at her lips.

Rex's brow furrowed, confused. "What is it?" 

She broke out into a teasing grin. "Well, if you're so worried about being recognized, you could always grow out a beard. Like, a full-on, Master Ki-Adi-Mundi one, with the chops and all. It would be quite the sight."

Rex shot her a glare that could have killed. "Never on my kriffing life."

She laughed and sat back in her seat, pulling her hand back from his. "I don't know. I'm starting to get used to your stubble." She pinched a piece of couscous from his plate between her fingers and teasingly flicked it at him.


	2. Lothal

Chapter 2: Lothal

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Kanan Jarrus wouldn’t consider his new occupation to be anything thrilling. At least, not compared to what he was used to.

But he was used to blaster fire, lightsabers, explosions, and high-speed electrifying battles, so he supposed it wasn’t too fair to draw a comparison.

But being the delivery boy for Lougar, a Rodian of questionable integrity, did have its moments. Sometimes, whatever client he was delivering to would give him a hefty tip, and he’d let himself get a better drink at the local bar, or maybe they’d even give him something better than money, like dinner.

Alright, well, maybe that wasn’t as exciting as backflipping through a battlefield, dodging lasers and cutting through droids like a hot knife through Bantha butter. But Kanan was trying.

Lothal wasn’t an interesting planet, but that was the point. The hazy, buttermilk-colored sun shed sweltering sunlight onto the vast, dry grasslands for nearly fifteen hours each day, parching the earth from the little water it had and rendering it nearly useless for any farming. Thus, the Outer Rim rock was mostly used for trade, but only trade that was good enough for backwater scugs like Lougar but not good enough for the Empire to come pay any mind. Sure, they stopped in from time to time, causing a bit of a ruckus with their white-clad bucketheads and their haughty, spick-and-span officers, but only to collect their yearly tax and be on their way. No one wanted to spend much time on the tumbleweed that was Lothal. And that was precisely why Kanan was here.

“Delivery for a Mr. Zeltung,” Kanan called, knocking on a rusted door, “from Lougar Frane…”

A beady yellow eye appeared in the door’s peephole, peering at him through the foggy glass. A metallic _shink_ sounded as the client drew back the lock and unlatched the door.

“Your late,” the client hissed, popping his head and shoulders out of the doorway, revealing the auburn scales and horned head of a Trandoshan. “How much do I owe?”

“Two-hundred-twenty credits for the first time, two-thirty every time after,” Kanan replied, reaching back to pat the crate behind him.

The client disappeared into his home before coming back a moment later. He handed Kanan a fraying leather pouch, who quickly emptied it into his palm and thumbed through it. “Yep, that’s two-twenty,” he conceded, dumping it all back into the pouch. His jet-blue eyes flickered back up to the Trandoshan. “No tip?”

With a scowl, the client reached into his pocket to dig around for some change. Begrudgingly, he tossed the handful of credits to Kanan. “Tell Lougar I’ll contact him when I need more.”

“Much obliged!” Kanan answered, offering a simpering grin, but the client had already shoved past him to grab the crate and drag it back into his home. Tossing Kanan one last glare, he shut the door.

“Someone’s in a funk,” Kanan muttered, rolling his eyes and turning back to his rickety speeder. He counted the tip before shoving it in his pocket. Lucky him, looked like he was getting a drink _and_ a hot meal that night. He climbed onto his speeder, pushed back the kickstand, and headed off.

He could save the money, stash it under creaking floorboard in the abandoned shed he’d renovated into a home, but what for? He didn’t need to leave. A dreary rock like Lothal was the perfect place for someone like him: an ex-Jedi padawan, on the run from the Empire, just needing to get by without attracting attention.

But it could be hard sometimes.

And he really missed the thrill of battle.

And he still had nightmares about his master dying.

And he doesn’t even know what’s in the crates he delivers for Lougar.

“Back already, boy?” the Rodian hollered in a gruff voice as Kanan reached the building, telling him that he was probably in the backroom.

“Everything went smooth,” Kanan called back, parking the speeder and heading inside. The thing was so broken it’s a miracle it hadn’t spun out on him yet. He almost wished it would and just get it over with. One less problem looming over his head.

“Smooth?” Lougar repeated, “good, good. And my pay?”

Kanan turned the corner to find the Rodian hunched over a stack of paperwork and a disassembled DL-18 blaster. His normally sea green fingertips were black with gunpowder from the powerpacks. “All right here." He looked past the pistol and papers and took in the room. It was full of junk and other bits and bobbles, as usual, but no more crates, or whatever it was that Lougar put in the crates. It bothered Kanan that he didn’t really know, but he tried not to think about it too hard. At this point, money was money. “The guy sounded like he’ll be a long-time customer,” he added nonchalantly, walking up to the desk.

“Hope so,” Lougar grumbled, only looking up from his busywork when Kanan dropped the coin purse on the desk. “Sorry, kid. That’s all the work I’ve got right now, so you can head home early.”

“Early? I’ve only done two deliveries today. It’s barely past noon!”

The Rodian sighed, sitting up and leaning back against a wall. “Ya know how it is-- business is slow, comin’ up on tax season. People ain’t buyin’ much this time of year.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I’ll pay ya normal price when ya come in tomorrow, but that’s about all I can do right now,” he negotiated, reaching up to scratch his head, leaving a large black smudge from the powder. Kanan kept his mouth shut. “And that’s the best I can do,” he added hastily.

Kanan drew in a deep breath, running a hand through his dark brown hair before giving in. “Fine,” he agreed, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

The two didn’t pass anymore words before Kanan turned to leave. He let out some of his frustration by twisting the ignition on his speeder more harshly than necessary before switching the gear, earning a metallic screech of protest from the parking brake. “Fine,” he said again, this time to himself and under his breath, “that’s just fine. I’ll deal with it.” He rolled his shoulders back once before driving off.

Evenings on Lothal weren’t much more interesting than the daytime. People were just hungrier and more tired, drawing them all out to one of the handful of the bars in town. When he’d first moved here, Kanan had tried to reserve the evenings for meditation, sitting on the floor of his home with his eyes closed in the traditional cross-legged position, but that hadn’t lasted long. He couldn’t tell if he’d stopped because it was too loud outside, or because he was too tired from lugging crates around all day, or if it was just because he didn’t want to.

It was probably the latter, but the guilt would chew him up and spit him out if he admitted it, so he chose to believe it was the outside interference rather than a personal problem.

His master would have scolded him for his lack of self-discipline and accountability. “ _Know yourself and seek self-improvement_ ,” he could almost hear her lecturing, “ _or I’ll have one of the clones take the night off while you take over his watch duty_.” He smirked at the memory.

But, Kanan reminded himself, his master wasn’t here. Depa Billaba was dead, and she wasn’t here anymore.

What was here was his job. And the bar. And the warm meal at said bar that awaited his credits.

Plus, not meditating just made him look less Jedi-like, and that’s what he was supposed to be aiming for, right?

With a sigh, Kanan got out of his bed and stretched, shaking off the drowsiness from his bonus afternoon nap. His stomach rumbled and he fished around in his pocket from the tips he collected that day. He wavered back and forth between saving it and spending it tonight before taking half and putting it back in his pocket. Lougar was right-- business really did slow down when the Imperial tax collectors came around, so he should exercise at least a little caution.

He should also try to exercise caution when the Imperials came for more reasons than money problems, like being a survivor of Order 66 and a Force-wielding fugitive. But he pushed that thought aside for now.

Kanan knelt down and reached under his bed, fumbling around for the small wooden box tucked between the bedframe and the thin hay-stuffed mattress. His thumb brushed against the corner of it and he worked to maneuver it before clattered to the floor. He unlatched and dumped the credits he’d decided to save inside.

He tried to shut it quickly, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the other precious contents that lay hiding inside: a delicate, cut-off padawan braid and a dust-covered lightsaber. His eyes traced over the fine weaving of the braid with the dull red and grey beads entwined in it. The sleek, smooth edges of the platinum on the two pieces of his lightsaber glinted in the filtered light. In the musty air, it whispered his name.

His fingers burned to reach down, connect the halves, twist and lock them into place, and ignite the sacred blade. It was as though his ears longed to hear the familiar, steady hum of the blade and his skin ached to feel the warmth of the blue light on his face.

Kanan slammed the box shut and shoved it back under the bed. He didn’t have time to daydream nowadays.

The walk to his favored bar was short and the dusk breeze was cool on the back of his neck. If he had to choose one of his least favorite parts about Lothal, it was the heat. Or the dust. Or the never-ending lack of excitement. Or all of it, really.

The bar, named Telma’s but dubbed Mama’s by the locals, was a bit run down on the outside but cozy and welcoming on the inside. Telma, the owner, treated every one of her regulars like they were her firstborn child, and Kanan had quickly been included into that smothering loop as soon as he started to show up every other evening.

“Kanan, honey! C’mon and take a seat, dear. I’ve still got some flounut butter stew on the burner,” the bartender greeted happily, waving him over with a hand. He did as he was told and pulled out a stool at the bar. “Busy day?” she asked, moving to give him a glass of water from the tap.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Kanan sighed, leaning forward with his elbow on the counter. “Tax season’s on its way.”

“Damn!” Telma cursed, shaking her head in disapproval. The busty woman wiped her hands on her purple apron before sloshing a ladle-full of stew into a bowl for Kanan. “Forgot all about that. Soon enough, my place is gonna be full of those stormtroopers,” she grumbled, handing Kanan the bowl and a spoon before going back to polishing glasses, bracelets clinking against each other along the way. “Cowards, the lot of ‘em, I tell you.”

“They were brave men, once,” Kanan said quietly, lifting the spoon to blow on the stew and cool it off. The broth rippled from his breath like the ocean waves on Kamino or the elegant water fountain in the Jedi Temple. With a start, he wondered when he last saw a body of water larger than a muddy puddle.

“What was that, honey?”

“Oh,” Kanan coughed, “I said I wish they were brave men.”

Telma nodded solemnly in agreement. “Don’t we all,” she huffed, pursing her lips. “But there really aren’t any men braver than the ones here on Lothal, right, Sarin?” she laughed, turning towards the aging Gotal sitting at a table not too far away and tossing him a wink. He raised his tankard and tipped his horns at her in agreement. “I’ll drink to that,” came another voice floating from somewhere in the diner. Kanan wasn’t sure if Telma was serious or joking.

He finished the rest of his stew, taking the bowl in his hands and tilting it down towards his mouth to drink the rest of the warm, salty broth. He started to reach into his pocket for the credits when Telma stopped him with a hand. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” she tisked, “it’s on the house tonight, if you could do a little favor for me before you go.”

“Of course,” Kanan replied quickly, grateful for the opportunity. “Thank you.”

All Telma had needed was for him to move some crates of rootleaf beer that had just come into the storage shed in the back. “This ol’ lady’s back is no match for those crates anymore,” Telma had explained. “I think I’d just snap in two if I even tried to lift one of ‘em all by myself.”

Kanan thought the same for himself once he managed to heave it up over his shoulders, but he kept his mouth shut and just grunted in reply. Without the Force helping him out, it was a very unsteady walk from the landing platform to the shed. He tried not to let his legs wobble too much as he made his way over. It was times like these where he was most tempted to break his self-set rule, to just use a little nudge of the Force to make his miserable, menial tasks a little less tedious. 

Once the job was done, Kanan gave his thanks to Telma before turning to head home. If he hadn’t been tired before the crates, he was now.

Walking through the streets, Kanan kept his head high and his gaze held towards the stars. He tried to name them all, as well as the distant moons and other far-off planets, counting how many he’d been to with his Master. The inky black sky was clear and endless, cold but inviting. He’d sold his ship when he first got to the planet, desperate for the money, but some nights, looking up at the night sky and stargazing just made him want to fly out there and be out in the galaxy again.

What he’d give just to be out in the emptiness of space once more.

As he walked, a rumble droned in the distance, escalating into resonating thunder and eventually an ear-splitting scream, causing every muscle in Kanan’s body to tense up as he recognized the terrifyingly familiar sound.

“TIE fighters!” someone shouted in the distance.

The black starfighters streamed across the previously serene stars, tearing recklessly through night sky. As Kanan peered closer, he realized they were pursuing a much larger grey ship, which was flying quite gracefully despite its bulky size and gawky shape. He watched attentively as the TIE fighters fired on the ship, which managed to dodge them. Almost unconsciously, Kanan began to follow the fight, his pace increasing from a brisk jog to a run, trying to catch every piece of action. All of his good judgement and common sense screamed at him to go back to his home and avoid anything to do with Imperials, but he couldn’t stop himself from continuing forward.

A loud _boom_ resounded across the sky. One of the TIEs had manage to strike the left rear engine assembly, sending the ship veering to the side and scrambling to regain its balance. It continued to narrowly evade fire as it made a sharp turn and swung low over the city and into the grasslands beyond. The ship flew high once more before circling the rocky canyons and disappearing into one of the deep crevices below.

Above the canyons, the TIEs came up short, airing above the canyon before circling once and spreading out.

“He lost them,” Kanan muttered in disbelief, coming to a halt. But it didn’t take a genius to know it wouldn’t be long before they found him. Lothal’s canyons were only so big. And once the mystery ship was found, they’d send in the ground forces to finish the job, and the TIEs would be gone with the ship apprehended and the excitement would be over for good.

Regret rose like bile in Kanan’s throat, the taste of a missed adventure leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

He turned his back on the road, reluctantly headed home. He mulled over everything he had seen, replaying the high-speed chase over and over again in his head until he arrived at the door to his ramshackle of a house. He half-heartedly pulled out the key and twisted it in its lock, just cracking open the door when he stopped.

His eyes caught on his old speeder parked by the side of the shed.

“Bad idea,” Kanan told himself quickly, shutting out the thought.

Almost as soon as he spoke the words, the familiar sway of the Force wreathed around him, catching him off guard with a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. It pulled him towards the box tucked safely under the bed, its powerful essence tugging him closer like unseen vines.

“Very bad idea,” he breathed, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

“ _Empower those around you by giving them your aid when they need it most,_ ” his master’s voice whispered in the air around him. “ _It is time._ ”

No, no, no, he thought, fighting to shut himself down, to make himself see the sense in not throwing away everything he had done, everything he had built until now. But his master’s warm, kindhearted brown eyes flickered against the back of his eyelids, knowing, tender, condemning.

“ _Run or fight, Caleb, but do not just stand there_ ,” her voice came again, more forceful this time, and the memories get caught in his throat.

“Dammit!” he cursed, throwing his head back in frustration. He swung open the door and went to take out the wooden box. “I swear, this is going to be the end of me,” he said between gritted teeth after a moment’s hesitation before opening the box. His hands trembled and his head felt dizzy. He hastily pulled out the two halves of his lightsaber and clipped them onto his belt before shoving the padawan braid in his pocket.

A heartbeat later, he was on the back of his speeder, taking off towards the canyons and the mystery ship. More importantly, towards danger, Imperials, and an almost entirely certain doomed end for himself.

Kanan tightened his grip on the handles, flying over the tall grass and hurtling towards the barren canyons.

This was wrong. He couldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t bravery, this was stupidity.

But it just felt so _right_.

His heart pounded madly in his chest, his were palms slick with sweat, and his arms more than a bit shaky, but the night sky stretched endlessly above him.

He smirked ever so slightly.

At least it would be a nice change of pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I'm pulling some ideas from Clone Wars, Rebels, and the "Ahsoka" novel, so not all names or places or whatnot are original. But this is a site for fanfiction... right? ;)


	3. The Mechanics

Chapter 3: The Mechanics

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

"It's your turn, Kolvin. But your butterfingers are so bad it's like you dipped them in droid oil. I doubt you'll score any good."

The one named Kolvin quickly became flustered. "That's not true. Watch this!"

Ahsoka's eyes followed the marble as the mossy-blue Rodian pinched it between his fingers and flicked it across the crokin board. It skimmed straight past the center goal and, with a stroke of very bad luck, fell into the dead zone. His jaw dropped in dismay.

The girl who had been teasing him, Banji Fardi, started cackling. "Sorry, what was I supposed to be seeing?" she teased. "You're so bad that even Hedala could beat you, and she's not even seven yet!"

The little girl seated next to her giggled.

"Banji, don't be so rude," Chenna scolded. She was the oldest of the three Fardi sisters and a couple years younger than Ahsoka, but sometimes she felt much older. That, or she just seemed more mature for her age. But, Ahsoka supposed, that was to be expected when she was the acting mother for her sisters ever since their parents passed. Life wasn't fair, and sometimes you had to grow up fast. And if anyone knew that, it was Ahsoka and Rex.

Banji rolled her eyes and sniffed disdainfully. "It's not my fault he's a bad player," she grumbled.

"Better luck next time, bud," Rex said to the humiliated Kolvin, offering him a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Probably not," Banji sneered. Playful mischief glinted in her dark brown eyes and Ahsoka tried hard not to chuckle as well. She had to at least _try_ to set a good example.

"Banji!" Chenna chided again. She shot Ahsoka a helpless look, only to get a hey-don't-look-at-me shrug in return. Kolvin merely sank lower in his seat.

It was the end of the workweek on Raada and a month after the Imperials had arrived, and Rex and Ahsoka were out for dinner and a game of crokin with the little group of friends they'd found. They were all a part of the same farming crew, and in a way, they'd sort of adopted "Ashla" and Rex into it as well. Feeling a bit pitied, the two mechanics made sure to give them good discounts on the tools they brought in, but it wasn't long before they finally started to warm up to them, even if they were still a bit wary. For the first time in the better half of a year, they weren't really alone anymore. It was something that Ahsoka decided needed getting used to.

"Kolvin isn't that bad," came a voice from behind their booth, along with the mouthwatering, savory smell of dinner. Ahsoka turned to see Vartan, the eldest of the group and the leader of the farming crew, coming over with a tray of food in his hand. "He's just got a lot to learn. And maybe you could teach him, Banji," he advised, setting the tray down on the table. There was a plate of spicy kod'yok ribs still sizzling from the grill with roasted lemus corn and an assortment of colorful seasoned vegetables from the local farms. The aroma was to die for and Ahsoka could only assume the taste would be as well. She felt her stomach rumble.

"Vartan's right," Chenna concurred, reaching forward to start dishing out the corn to her sisters. She swatted Banji's reaching hand away from the vegetables. "That way, you could both get better and make the game more interesting."

In a way, she reminded Ahsoka a little of Padmé. Maybe it was the soft kindness. Or maybe the mothering.

"I don't need a kid to teach me," Kolvin retorted, huffing.

"I could teach you," Hedala chimed in, staring up at him with the cutest of smiles and unnecessarily big, sparkling eyes.

Kolvin's frown disappeared to be quickly replaced by an affectionate simper. Even Rex's usual staunch expression melted a bit into a smile. The girl was hopelessly adorable. It was impossible not to fall in love her dark bushy curls and pinchable cheeks at first sight.

"I'm sure you'd be a wonderful teacher, Hedala," Vartan assured, chuckling. He rubbed the girl's head with a hand before handing out some utensils. He took his seat in the empty spot next to Rex. Much to Ahsoka's relief, he picked up the plate of kod'yok ribs and started to pass them around.

"Thish ish delishush!" Kolvin exclaimed around a mouthful of ribs. He swallowed and dove in for another bite. Ahsoka silently hoped he would use the napkin to wipe the crumbs falling out of the corners of his mouth.

"Well, don't get used to it," Vartan grunted. He steadily swallowed a spoonful of corn. "There'll be a lot less of it from here on out."

"What? Why?" Chenna asked, incredulous.

"The Empire's going to start restricting imports to the planet," Rex answered before Vartan could. His expression darkened considerably. Ahsoka didn't know if Rex realized how threatening he looked when he was serious. "Things like kod'yok aren't a necessity, so they'll try to limit it, if they can."

"But what does the food we eat have to do with the Empire?" Kolvin puzzled. "It's not like it bothers them at all."

"Because the Imperials want Raada and other Outer Rim planets to be dependent on two things, and two things alone," Rex continued grimly. "The Empire, and the planet itself."

Ahsoka watched Chenna and Kolvin nod in slow understanding. It surprised her that they hadn't figured that one out already. But, then again, she reminded herself, they were just farmers. It was safe to assume they didn't know much about the political and economic strategy of a dictatorship.

"They won't just cut off everything, surely," Chenna pressed. Kolvin nodded assertively next to her. Banji took advantage of her sister's diverted attention to steal one of the ribs off her plate. Hedala was otherwise preoccupied, picking idly at her vegetables and trying to make a triangle out of the pieces of her corn.

"I wouldn't-" Rex started, but Vartan cut him off with a stern look that gave Ahsoka violent déjà vu of the glares that Master Windu had given that had made her fight back hot tears as a youngling.

Rex's mouth formed a line, but he did as he was told. Ahsoka silently agreed with him. It was naïve of Chenna and Kolvin to think that this would be the only change; it was just the first of many. And not knowing the truth of it would only hinder them.

But they weren't prepared for anything like that, Ahsoka admonished herself. They hadn't seen war, or the strategies of contending militaries, or the decimation of planets just like theirs at the hand of the Separatists, seen as nothing more than mere pawns in the never-ending game of chess that Palpatine had played against himself. She couldn't blame them for that. Perhaps it was even a blessing.

Chenna went on. "They've been here for a month, and other than switching out some of the crops on our farms, they haven't really done much," she acknowledged. Banji nodded quietly next to her, starting to tune into the adult conversation. Ahsoka hoped she wouldn't have to grow up too soon. She hastily extinguished any thought of a reason as to why.

"It's only a matter of time before they change their mind," Rex countered darkly.

Ahsoka nudged him with her elbow. Couldn't he tone it down a bit? It was obvious Vartan didn't want them to be fully aware of the condemned fate of their planet just yet. They could save all the doom-and-gloom for later. "I'm sure the black market will make it's way here soon enough," she added hopefully, trying to bring a little optimism to the table. "There will definitely be kod'yok meat on there."

The conversation screeched to a halt. Chenna and Kolvin's eyes stretched wide in alarm. Rex pinched the bridge of his nose. Vartan gave another Windu-esque glare that sent her head reeling.

"What's a black market?" Hedala asked.

"It's where they sell super cool bad things, like human hearts and Wookie eyeballs," Banji grinned impishly.

"Banji!" Chenna scolded.

"Listen," Vartan broke in, shaking his head jadedly, "let's just enjoy the rest of our meal tonight. I'm sure things will be alright for now." He glanced tiredly at Rex once before reaching for another rib. "Plus, we've still got a game of crokin to finish."

The group slowly eased back into a somewhat-normal state, chowing down on the rest of their food, tossing around jokes, and playing crokin. Ahsoka tried to keep her mind on the game, but she was losing pretty poorly and found it impossible not to think about other things. Darker things.

Her head started to spin, and images of villages reduced to dirt and ash whizzed through her mind. She saw scorched farmlands and hacked-down orchards. She saw trampled crops and wrecked houses. She saw stranded people and burning bones. The Force was dead in the ground. She saw Chenna, eyes glazed over in the sightless stare of death. She saw Kolvin, buried and crushed under a mound of bricks and fallen stone. She saw Hedala, standing alone in a disarray of smoldering buildings, lost to the world.

"Hey," Rex murmured into her ear. He placed a firm hand on her knee under the table. She could feel his eyes boring into her side. She was aware of Vartan's watchful gaze on her, too.

"I'm alright," she said quietly. She didn't look at either of them. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the vegetable about to fall off of Banji's plate. If she wanted, she could flick the tip of her index finger, and the Force would nudge it back from the edge. But of course, she couldn't do that. Not without risking exposure and consequently endangering their lives. Imagine that, she thought. She could put their lives at risk just by moving the tip of her finger!

Rex clearly hadn't taken her word for it that she was fine. She felt him open his mouth to press further, but he didn't get the chance before the cantina went quiet.

"Look who's decided to join the party," Kolvin muttered. Ahsoka tore her gaze from the teetering vegetable to see what the commotion was.

Two storm troopers entered the cantina. After a moment, they removed their shiny helmets and walked up to the bar, rudely pushing past another patron to order their drinks.

She heard Rex breathe a sigh of relief when he didn't recognize them as brothers. Not only would they have looked identical, Ahsoka thought, but they wouldn't have been so impolite.

Between keeping an eye on the troopers when they went off-duty and listening in to their casual chatter for the past month, she and Rex had learned a fair amount about the new structure of their old military. Most importantly, they'd figured out that there was only one small battalion and few inexperienced, young officers who'd brought along a handful of rusting AT-RTs leftover from the war. Clearly, the Empire didn't see Raada as anything too important. And, luckily for Rex and Ahsoka, most of the troopers deployed to Raada were freshly-enlisted shinies, not the seasoned, battle-worn clones that the Empire had deemed outdated. But despite the somewhat-comforting intel, they both stayed a little wary.

The storm troopers, obviously not bringing any important news, became less interesting and the normal clamor of the cantina revved up again.

"Their armor is ugly," Kolvin grumbled. "So big and bulky."

"It's practical," Rex replied, maybe a little too defensively. "It's the best material for deflecting blaster fire."

"It's still ugly."

"It is a little clunky," Chenna admitted.

Rex's eyelid visibly twitched.

Not much later, they finished their dinner and their game of crokin, leaving nothing but some kernels of corn and a few left-over vegetables that Hedala had refused to eat on the table. They all cashed in when they got the check and had Banji bring it up to the bartender. Ahsoka started to help Chenna and Kolvin clear the table when she heard Vartan quietly ask Rex for a word. She tried not to look as Rex nodded and followed him around the corner, well out of earshot.

"Hey Kolvin, I bet I can seed twice as much soil than you tomorrow," Banji dared, sticking her nose up at the Rodian.

"Doubt it," he retorted. He was older than Ahsoka but appeared to get along more with Banji. If whatever their poking-and-prodding relationship could be called a friendship, anyway.

"Sorry Banji, but you won't be able to make good on your bet tomorrow," Chenna broke in, "I need you to watch Hedala tomorrow. The neighbors will be out of town, so you have to stay home with her."

"What?" Banji complained. "I hate Hedala duty!" She let out an impressively dramatic groan.

She would do very well in the theatre industry on Coruscant, Ahsoka mused. "Surely Hedala duty isn't that bad," she put in lightly.

"You just don't get it, Ashla," Banji said gloomily, "little sisters are _so_ annoying. They're the absolute worst."

"Banji, try to be nice, please," Chenna said exasperatedly.

The younger girl pouted and scrunched up her nose. "Or maybe older sisters or worse."

It wasn't long before Rex and Vartan returned. By then, the others had finished bringing the dishes back to the bar and had packed up the leftovers, which Chenna eagerly took home. After saying goodbyes, everyone departed for their homes for the rest of the night. They were tired from the day of working under the sun and had things to do. Vartan needed to return home to his wife and Kolvin to his elderly mother. Rex and Ahsoka needed to lock up the shop. Chenna needed to put Hedala and Banji to bed, which was perhaps the hardest task of them all.

Stepping out under the night sky, Ahsoka took in a deep breath. There was a cool breeze that sent little bumps up her back and over her arms. They passed the pair of stormtroopers from earlier, who were probably headed out on night patrol. Ahsoka and Rex tried to keep their heads low. As she glimpsed the familiar shape of their helmets out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly wasn't sure the shivers were just from the wind. It was like they were a ghost of the past, of the war, and of a life long gone, haunting her wherever she went. She glanced up at the sky to gaze at the moons, usually finding comfort in their pale, mesmerizing glow amongst the stars, but they were hidden, tucked away behind thick grey clouds. How symbolic, she thought miserably.

They chose to stay quiet on their walk home. Better not to risk any suspicion, Rex had said, but Ahsoka personally thought two people walking silently through the streets at night with their heads low made it look even more suspicious. They could at least have tried small talk. That would probably make it more believable. But on second thought, maybe Rex wasn't capable of making small talk. And maybe she wasn't, either, Ahsoka realized. She wouldn't necessarily call either of them 'socially adept'.

Ahsoka waited until they had reached the relative safety of their shop before asking Rex what Vartan had wanted to talk to him about. She leaned against the counter, carefully avoiding stepping in a meticulously sorted array of cylindrical and tapered roller bearings. The unspoken question of _should we be concerned?_ passed from her eyes to his.

Rex shook his head. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. "But we need to be careful," he said, noticing her sense of relief.

She raised a brow. "What did he say, then?"

"He said he doesn't know who we were or where we're from or, but he can guess what we've seen," he explained, turning to try and clear off the table. He started to shift around some nails and flat-head screws into a small pile. "He asked me—"

"Don't touch those."

Rex retreated slowly and raised his hands in mock surrender. "He asked me if we could try to not scare the others," he continued, "mostly Chenna and the girls." He stared ruefully at the half-finished pile and let out a deep sigh.

"So he wants us to lie to them?"

"No, no. Just to be more… gentle, I guess."

"Gentle?" Ahsoka repeated. She snorted and crossed her arms. "The Empire isn't going to be 'gentle' when they decide they don't have a use for this planet anymore."

"They're kids, Ahsoka," Rex reminded her, "and pretty innocent ones at that. They haven't seen much in their lifetime to prepare them for something like this."

Ahsoka let out a deep breath. She tried to understand. And she did, but she didn't like it.

Her eyes fell on the nails and screws that she'd methodically organized into differentiated rows and columns of sizes and densities. She tisked. Now she'd have to sort them again tomorrow.

She realized Rex was staring at her, apparently awaiting a response. "Well," she stammered, "I guess we'll do as we're told. We don't really have much of a choice. Besides…" she remembered their plan to set up a backup base in case things went wrong. She realized they'd been so busy being mechanics that they were falling behind in carrying it out. "We haven't explored the cave system outside the town. And if things turn bad like we think they will, we'll let Vartan and the others know about the plan. So, let's just keep our worries to ourselves. For now."

"For now," Rex agreed.

The reluctance in his warm brown eyes told her that he was struggling to step aside and watch, too. To step aside and look on as the helpless farming planet threatened to crumble under the grip of the Empire and leave everyone on it with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They'd both seen it in the past; they'd seen the Separatists come to a planet like Raada, gradually exert their control, and sap up the planet's resources until it was left dry and useless. Then they'd up and leave and move on to the next rock they found.

It felt like they needed to do something. It felt like they needed to resist, to come out against the Empire, guns blazing and lightsabers flashing. It felt like they needed to put up a fight before giving up.

But they weren't heroes anymore. They weren't clone and Jedi, Captain and Commander. They were just the mechanics who lived down the street from the cantina.

The two decided to turn in for the night, tired from the day's work and left feeling drowsy from the hearty meal they'd had. "Fat and happy", Jesse would've called the feeling. Ahsoka thought "fat and sluggish" was more accurate.

She climbed into her rack, the top of the bunk bed they'd built, and rested her head on her pillow. Rex switched off the light and she stared blankly at the ceiling. She heard him twist and turn in the sheets below her. He must be having trouble sleeping as well, she thought.

Below her, he muttered disparagingly. "They said the armor looked ugly," he grumbled.

She couldn't help but smirk. "It is a bit bulky in some places."

He huffed indignantly. "That plastoid is some of the most formidable material in the galaxy!"

"I'm just kidding, Rex. You and the men looked very handsome in your armor. No need to worry."

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She let herself think on her words for a moment: the men.

Under his breath, Rex scoffed. "Clunky."


	4. The Pilot

Chapter 4: The Pilot

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Surprisingly, the mystery ship wasn't in as bad of a condition as Kanan thought it would be.

It was only half-on fire. And the hull seemed to be taking it well.

"Chopper! I said you need to get the fire coolants on, _now_! If you don't move your little wheels faster, the engine's gonna burst, and _then_ where will we be?!"

Kanan grinded his speeder to a halt and turned towards the direction of the very panicked voice. Amidst the chaos, there was a small green Twi'lek lady, struggling frantically to lift a very heavy hose that was attached to the ship and aim it towards the engine assembly. Kanan guessed that had been what was hit by the TIE.

He assessed the situation and weighed the odds. If she could get the fire out, she could probably climb up there and fix the assembly in time to fly away before the Imperials got there. But by the fact that she could barely lift the hose by herself, and by the fact that it wasn't even _running_ yet, it was highly unlikely.

Kanan looked back the way he came, back towards the city, then back at the girl. She hadn't noticed him yet. He could easily step on the gas and leave, pretend like none of it had happened, and go back to his life. He could leave.

But he'd come this far.

Kanan climbed off his speeder and jogged towards the mess of a ship. He bit his tongue. Hopefully, this wasn't the biggest mistake of his life.

"What?! I can't climb up there and fix it right now, Chop! You have to turn on the coolant first, you dumb bucket of bolts! How can I put out a fire without any sodium bicarbonate in the hose?!" the Twi'lek shouted angrily up the onramp of the ship. "Stupid droid," she muttered, grunting crossly as she tried again to haul the hose up over her shoulder.

Kanan walked up behind her. He hung back a second before coughing awkwardly.

The girl whirled around, one of her lekku whipping Kanan's cheek. As he yelped out, she fumbled to grab the blaster from the holster on her leg. "Stay back!" she demanded, holding up the blaster with both hands and pointing it directly at his chest. Sweat glistened on her forehead and collected over the goggles that were pulled over her face.  
Kanan's hands flew into the air. "Woah now," he started, ignoring the urge to rub his smarting cheek, "don't shoot."

"Stay right where you are," she ordered, her body rigid. "What do you want?"

Kanan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "To help you."

"Help me?" she repeated, quirking a brow, "and why should I believe you? How do I know you're not someone working for the Imperials? How do I know you don't have a…" she trailed off. Panic swept over her face. She took a menacing step forward and raised the blaster even higher. "How do I know you don't have a tracker attached to you right now, and you've followed me and led them straight to me?!"

"Wha—a tracker? No, no, I don't—"

Kanan was cut off as the dropped and forgotten hose behind the girl suddenly flared on, spouting a foamy green-ish substance that Kanan assumed was an extinguisher. The triumphant beeps of a droid echoed from inside the ship.

The Twi'lek tore her gaze from the hose back to Kanan, clearly conflicted in with what to do.

Kanan took the opportunity for his advantage. "Look," he started, "we can stand here with you pointing your blaster at me until the Imperials come, or, you can let me help you with the hose and we'll put out the fire, then you can be on your way. It's your choice, really."

She stared at him resentfully. After a moment's hesitation, she hastily dropped the blaster back into its holster and reached for the hose.

Kanan stood and watched her, surprised that she'd actually listened.

"Are you going to help me, or what?!" she spat, glaring at him over her shoulder.

Shaking his head, Kanan quickly bent to help her pick up the hose. With their strength combined, it was much easier to hold and aim towards the engine assembly. The hose spurted the extinguisher high in an arc where it landed directly onto the flames. Within minutes, the fire was out.

The girl dropped the hose and stared to climb up onto the hull of the ship, toolbox in hand. "Wind up the hose and get it back in the ship!" she shouted back at Kanan, "Chopper and I will take the rest from here!"

Doing as he was told, Kanan grabbed the hose, which was much heavier now that he was holding it by himself, and started to loop it over his shoulder. He dragged it up the onramp and back into the ship, trying to tuck it out of the way.

As soon as he stepped inside, a droid screeched in front of him, beeping and whirring very loudly and very angrily. A little mechanical taser and a utility popped out of his sides, causing Kanan to jump back a bit.

"Woah there, little buddy," he stammered, trying to be gentle. The droid bleeped even louder and started rolling towards him with sinister intent.

"He's fine, Chop! Get back to the ship!" called the girls' voice from outside, coming to his rescue.

Begrudgingly—if a droid could look begrudging—he tucked away his weapons. He wheeled backwards into the ship and growled like he was telling Kanan "I've got my eye on you," which was absurd, because droids didn't even have eyes, Kanan thought, they just have sensors and scanners.

With the mechanical hazard gone, Kanan finished shoving the firehose back into the compartment in the wall. He shut it and raced back outside to see how the girl was doing with the engine.

Back out in the night air, which still reeked of smoke and ship exhaust, Kanan looked up to see the girl straddling the engine as she worked furiously to fix it. Grease was smudged against her cheek and she was arm-deep in the engine, twisting things and turning them to make it right. "What can I do?" he called up at her.

"Get up here and hand me my tools when I need them!"

Kanan nodded and started to climb. He spotted her toolbox a foot behind her and he pulled himself up next to it.

She didn't even hazard a look back at him before sticking out a hand. "Socket wrench!"

Kanan dug around in the box, finding it and handing it to her. She took it, stuck her arm back in the engine, yanked it twice, and gave it back.

"Slip joint pliers!"

He stuck the wrench back in the box and gave her the next tool.

"What's your name?" Kanan asked as they went on like this, looking over her shoulder.

"What's yours?" she shot back.

"Would it kill you to trust me just a little?" he huffed. "It's Kanan."

"Axle spanner!"

Kanan rolled his eyes. Names would have to wait, he supposed. He opened his mouth to try again, but a different, more familiar sound resonated in the distance. He squinted and peered out into crevices of the canyon that led back to the town. Something metallic glinted in the moonlight and the revving of engines grew louder.

"Hey, uh," he stuttered eyes glued to the white helmets coming out of the canyon. There were at least fifteen.

"Cap wrench!"

He handed her the tool. "Listen, I think—"

"Bolt cutters!"

He took back the wrench and gave her the cutters. "Hey! You seriously—"

The girl sat up with an irritated grunt. She whipped her head around to glare at him. "Are you here to talk, or help…" her voice faded as she heard the reverberations of the speeders. Her jaw dropped as she spotted the stormtroopers. "Oh, mother of— quick! Give me back the pliers!"

Kanan obeyed. He kept his eyes trained on the incoming speeders. They were closing in. "Hurry…"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" she snapped. She stuck her head back inside the engine. "Socket wrench again!"

The roaring of the speeders bounced off of the canyon walls. Some of the stormtroopers reached for their blaster rifles. "Hurry!"

"I'm _hurrying_! Stop pressuring me!" she shouted irately. She locked the wrench into place and gripped it with both hands. She struggled to pull it to the right.

Blaster fire began to fly through the air around them. A laser whizzed dangerously close to Kanan's ear. "We need to go, _now_!" he yelled, ducking under another laser.

"Shut—and I cannot express this enough—the hell up!" she seethed. She groaned with effort as she strained to twist the wrench. Kanan quickly sensed the problem and wrapped his arms around her, grabbing the wrench with her and pulling. A metal clang sounded amongst the blaster fire as it locked into place.

The girl's shoulders sagged in relief. "Phew," she breathed. "It's fixed."

Another laser hurtled over Kanan's head. "That's great, but it's time to go," he said quickly. He took the wrench from her hand and dropped it back into the tool box before tossing the whole thing to the ground. "You're next," he grunted, putting his hands around her waist and lifting her up off the engine.

"Hey!" she protested, but just as quickly as he'd picked her up, he released her half-gently, letting her slide down the hull. She landed clumsily on the ground, but quickly bent to pick up her toolbox and made a dash for the onramp.

Kanan jumped off the engine, landing nimbly on two feet and a spread hand. He snapped his head up to look at the oncoming onslaught of storm troopers.

For a moment, he saw the clones: a band of brothers in white painted red, blasters raised and aimed for his heart.

"Come on!" the girl's voice jolted him. "Or please, by all means, stand there and die! But I'm leaving!"

Kanan ducked away and sprinted up onto the ship, blaster fire raging behind him. He'd half-expected the girl to fly away without him. Her invitation to board was surprising.

Once he was on board, the ramp raised and the ship's engines hummed to life. He didn't hear any abnormal rumbling, so it was safe to assume the girl had fixed the engine well. Speaking of the girl—

"Chop! Get the hyperdrive back online, now!" her voice echoed from somewhere within the ship. Kanan followed the voice deeper into the ship, past a series of doors and up a ladder to the bridge. He struggled to keep his balance as the ship veered back and forth.

"If we don't jump as soon as we're clear, then we're as good as dead," the girl shouted from her seat in the cockpit. The droid worked madly next to her, it's universal interface arm twisting and turning in the maintenance slot of the ship.

"So glad you could join us," the girl grunted, keeping her eyes on the skies ahead, "now make yourself useful and go man the gun!"

Kanan nodded swiftly and made for the ladderwell she gestured to but stopped short. "I never got your name!"

The girl tossed him a glare over her shoulder. "If we make it out of this alive, I'll tell you!" She turned her focus back to their escape.

Kanan couldn't help but smirk as he turned back to head to the turret. Once in the chair, he took a hold of the controls and started to aim for the nearest TIE. He waited until the ship swung around again to fire, and as soon as his fingers clenched around the trigger, the right wing of the ship burst into flames. It sailed downwards, a river of smoke behind it.

"Nice one!" he heard a shout from below. Kanan bit back an arrogant reply and focused on the next one.

He took the TIE fighters out, one by one, until there was only a single ship following them up and into the planet's atmosphere. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and excitement sparked at the ends of his nerves. Now _this_ was what he called fun.

They were almost far enough out of the atmosphere that they could make the jump, but there were still a few asteroids to clear. The ship swung low and high, narrowly avoiding the floating rocks and churning Kanan's stomach with it as they went. He swallowed, hard. Clearly, he hadn't been flying in a while.

While he tried to stop himself from upchucking his dinner, the TIE following them pulled a sharp right, slamming itself in front of the ship and the path that would lead them out of the asteroids. Clearly, the TIE was hoping they would try to pull away to avoid hitting it and ram into an asteroid instead. It was a stupid, risky move that would get _both_ of them killed. No clone with half a brain would have even tried it.

"Shoot that one down!" the girl screeched from the cockpit. The ship juddered and creaked as she pulled on the brakes. Kanan barely had time to pull his hand away from his mouth in time to grab the controls and swing it towards the TIE. He fired, blowing it to oblivion in one shot and barely clearing their path in time.

He let himself exhale in relief as the ship flew through the debris and into the empty space beyond. A low hum resounded throughout the ship morphing into a high-pitched whine. Around him, the stars blurred into white streaks, and they were soaring through hyperspace.

Once he was sure he wasn't about to hurl, Kanan left the turret station and made his way back down to the bridge. "Hey, so—"

As soon as he rounded the corner, a blaster was pointed as his chest. The droid whirred and held its taser in his direction.

"Stay where you are!" the girl ordered, gloved hands tight around the blaster. She'd pulled up her goggles, revealing startlingly-pretty green eyes.

"Woah, I thought we were over this!" he objected, raising his hands in a flash. He had a feeling she wouldn't shoot, but it wouldn't be smart to be too sure.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she said mistrustfully.

Kanan fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Because I risked my life to help you?"

She scrunched up her nose in suspicion. "And why would you do that?"

Kanan pondered for a moment how to explain to the pilot—who was seemingly new to the whole 'rebellion' thing—what the Force was and how he felt it in his bones when it told him to search out her fallen ship. How a metaphysical, spiritual, omniscient power that surrounded them at all times and penetrated every living thing, entwined in the fibers of the galaxy and bound it together, told him to leave his dingy shed and dull job and everything he'd built to say hidden to go find her crash site. To dig out his lightsaber and his padawan braid and fling himself into the throes of battle and danger. To risk his life at the mere possibility of doing something good again. To be himself again. To be a Jedi again.

"I felt like it, I guess," he shrugged.

The girl wasn't convinced.

"Can I at least get your name?" he implored.

The girl vacillated for a moment, looking him up and down. He knew that as far she could tell, he wasn't armed. He just had two useless metal rods clipped onto his belt.

"Fine," she decided, uncocking her blaster and sticking it back into its holster. She gave him one more look-over before returning to the pilot's seat. "I'm Hera, and this is Chopper." She gestured to the droid.

Hesitantly, Kanan made his way over to the co-pilot's chair, stepping around the still-growling droid. The droid grumbled and turned back to what it was doing, muttering its beeps of discontent.

"I'm Kanan," he said steadily, taking a seat.

"You said as much."

He sighed. "Are you this rude to all of the people you first meet?"

"Only the ones I don't trust yet," she shot back.

"Why were you getting chased by TIEs, anyway?" Kanan asked, changing the subject. "It's not often we get to see a fire fight on Lothal."

"I stole some stuff from them," she said dodgily. Kanan waited for her to continue.

She huffed, tapping her foot. "I stole some crates of illegal weapons and some food," she admitted eventually, her shoulders drooping. "And things were going just _fine_ , until I tried to get through the Imperial blockade and found out _someone_ ," she glared daggers at Chopper, "forgot to turn on the sensor scramblers, telling the TIEs exactly who and where we were," she finished.

"Sensor scrambler?" Kanan repeated, "how'd you even get that nowadays? They're super illegal!"

Hera smiled and pride twinkled in her eyes. "The Ghost doesn't actually have a cloaking device," she beamed, patting the wall of the ship like a proud mother. "Instead, she's got eighty-seven upgrades that let it imitate cosmic radiation or solar fluctuations on different sensors, which lets us get past the Imperial blockade anytime we want, however many times we want. That is," she added, glancing again at Chopper, "if they're _turned on_."

The astromech bleeped angrily.

"Huh," Kanan accepted, ignoring the slightly scary droid. "What's your plan for the crates?"

"I've got a guy back on the other side of Lothal who's waiting for them," she answered casually, "and then I've got someone else who'll tell me—" she broke off, sitting up straight.

"What?"

"I shouldn't be telling you all of this. I still don't know if I can trust you," Hera said, then added more quietly, "we're still getting used to this whole secret-rebellion-thing."

"Oh, c'mon," he nagged, turning to face her. He looked up at her earnestly. "I don't really look that bad, do I?"

Hera looked back at him, lips pursed in staunch doubt, but her face softened and her eyes widened slightly as she stared at him. She clamped her mouth shut a moment later and whipped her head around back towards the stars. "Kind of," she grumbled, color tinting her cheeks.

Kanan chuckled, leaning back in his seat. He stared out at the moon and the stars ahead of them, relishing in their cold brilliance. Space stretched endlessly beyond them. It was refreshing.

"We'll hang around this moon for a while until this have calmed down on Lothal, then we'll head back through a different entry point and go to the drop off point," Hera described, shutting off the engines and kicking her feet up on the dash. The ship floated effortlessly in space. "I'll take first watch. There are beds in the back if you need to catch some shut-eye. But no promises that Chop won't come and tase you in your sleep," she huffed.

Kanan glanced warily at the droid who only stared back and extended his taser again for extra emphasis. "That's alright," he declined lightly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'll stay."

His dark brown hair was disheveled and falling out in places around his face from the earlier events. He let it down and ran his hand through it once before retying it. He turned towards Hera, who was already looking at him. She hastily tore her gaze away from him and looked back at the moon ahead of them. "Fine," she frowned, crossing her arms behind her head and leaning back. She closed her eyes. "But get comfy. We'll be here a while."

Kanan decided he was fine with waiting. He felt like he could stare at the stars for hours.

Exhaustion tugged at the back of his eyelids. But the excitement of a new adventure sparking under his skin kept him wide awake.

Maybe this hadn't been the worst mistake of his life, after all. In the last hour, he'd only almost died twice. And both times, it had been a little thrilling, if he were to be overly honest.

Kanan resolved to stay and help the pilot, at least for a little while. He'd stick around and see what he could do, see if he had a place, or either die in the process of finding out or let it be and go back to his little life on Lothal.

But he wanted to stay. And he hoped to the galaxy and back that he did have a place. He liked rebellion. He liked insurrection. He liked the fight.

Next to him, the girl named Hera shifted slightly, dozing off into sleep.

Kanan smirked. And maybe he was starting to like this pilot, too.


	5. The Insurgency

Chapter 5: The Insurgency

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

Ahsoka has a dream that she's standing in front of the Crystal Caves on the ice planet Ilum. She's a youngling again, and Master Yoda has just told her to go and search for her kyber crystal. The ancient, iced-over door towers over her, frozen and terrifying. It's a door that probably doesn't exist anymore.

She races inside of the cave, because the sun is setting and time is running out. If she isn't fast enough, the ice will crystalize over the door once more, and she'll be trapped inside, lost to space and time. She'll become a legend used to scare younglings. A myth of a ghost who didn't find her crystal in time and now haunts the tunnels of the cave to this day, searching and searching and searching for what she never found.

Inside, the cave is black and twisting and silent. No crystal calls to her, and she runs further and further into the caves, searching, frantic. But then, an unexpected calm washes over her, and suddenly, she's years older, as old as she is now, and it only makes sense because it's a dream and everything makes sense in dreams.

Her footsteps slow until she's still, facing the dark stone of the cave wall. She reaches out and brushes her fingers against a crack in the wall. It fractures at her touch. It shatters, and comes crashing down over her, crushing her and suffocating her and ripping the air out of her lungs. All around her, the kyber crystals of the cave cry out with agonized, tormented screams.

"Master!" she cries out, a plea for help. Dust and blood turned to mud cakes her lungs and she feels the weight of each stone pressing in on her body.

"I thought I taught you better than that," she hears Anakin's voice, and he's looking down at her from between the cracks in the falling rocks. His deep blue eyes stare down at her scornfully. Then he changes, and it's Master Yoda again. "Everyone knows you can't touch the caves at Ilum," he says, which isn't true at all, and it's still Anakin's voice, and it's weird and messed-up and shouldn't he be speaking his sentences backwards? "Even a droid with half a brain knows not to touch the walls of the cave, and droids don't even have brains." He shakes his small and hairy green head in disdain.

"I'm sorry!" Ahsoka chokes out, fighting for air. The crystals are still shrieking and she doesn't know how to shut them up, and even though the Force is practically pulsing like thunder out of her palms, the stones of the wall keep crashing down, sending blood spurting up through her lungs and out of her mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Ahsoka startled awake and jolted upright in her bed, sweat dripping down her back and something wet trickling down her cheeks.

With a strangled gasp, she realized she was crying, and choked on it.

She hadn't cried in years. Jedi weren't supposed to cry.

"It's alright, it was just a dream," came Rex's voice, low and tender in a silent whisper against her neck. It's only then that she was aware of him on the top bunk with her, arms around her, holding her close. "It wasn't real." His hands were rough and his grip tight, as though he was trying to pull her out of whatever hell she was waking up from.

"Rex… I'm okay, I'm fine," she managed to say, shoving the hiccups back down her throat. Her voice sounded weak and small and she hated it.

Hearing her words, Rex slowly released her and leaned back, hands still hovering near her shoulders just in case. He stared at her, and in the dark of the room, Ahsoka realized the glint in his eye was fear. Stress came off of him like swells in a sea. She could feel it in the Force.

"I'm okay," she said again, more to herself this time than to him. She forced her voice to stop shaking but has less luck with her hands, so she fisted them into the sweat-dampened sheets that lay twisted around her. She could not tolerate such weaknesses.

"You're okay," Rex said softly, and she wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement.

She took in a trembling breath and closed her eyes.

After finishing up with the last ship they'd been paid to fix, Ahsoka and Rex headed over to the cantina. The walk was silent, as usual, but Ahsoka's mind was busy thinking about the ventilation system on the ship. It was a Class-580 freighter that was a bit rickety and falling apart at the seams, but still working for the most part. The pilot's main complaint had been that the cooling systems in the cargo hold had broken and that the temperature was stuck at -4˚ Celsius, freezing all of his cargo and rendering it unsellable. Ahsoka had personally dug through every wire and cord under the panels, looking for the source of the problem, and hadn't found it. It bothered her like a mosquito that kept buzzing in your ear but kept coming back whenever you tried to clap it in your hands. "The ship's probably just too old," Rex had told her, but she planned on going back to dig deeper at first light next morning.

Now that the sun was setting, the air was starting to cool down, and a pleasant breeze slipped past Ahsoka's back. She still had grease stains covering her arms and she was pretty sure it was somewhere on her face, too, but Rex had practically dragged her out of the innards of the ship to come get dinner with the crew. "I'm not hungry," she'd protested. "And I don't care," he'd deadpanned in return. He eventually got her to come with. Maybe she sulked about it a bit, but she still came.

The two stepped into the cantina, greeted by bar music and loud conversation. It wasn't hard to spot their friends in the back corner, seated at their normal table. They were playing another game of crokin. As Ahsoka and Rex approached, she noticed the pieces on the board happened to look a lot like the structure of the town itself. In fact, it almost looked like the lines of the Imperials' main office, the trooper barracks, the order of their AT-STs…

Rex flashed his arm out and wiped the pieces off the board, beating Ahsoka to it, and sent the temporary battle map scattering.

"Hey! What was that for?!" Kolvin said angrily.

"Are you stupid?" Rex fumed, taking a seat.

Kolvin glanced toward Chenna and Banji. "We were just—"

"We know what you were doing," Ahsoka cut in, scowling, "and the Empire isn't that dull. If a pair of storm troopers had walked in here…"

"We'd be blindfolded, lined up, and shot dead," Rex finished grimly, his voice lowered.

It was enough to scare the three of them. Ahsoka watched as Kolvin swallowed and Chenna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. Good.

"They're right," came a stern voice. They all turned to see Vartan standing behind them. "You were being foolish. Don't be again," he warned. "My farming crew is no good without any of its farmers."

Chenna bit her lip nervously. "But what about our fields?" she blurted suddenly, then hastily added in a whisper, "they're going to ruin them!"

Ahsoka raised a brow. That was new information. "What do you mean?"

The older girl gulped and sat back in her seat. Next to her, Banji straightened her back and her gaze darkened. Ahsoka found it disconcerting that she suddenly seemed so much older. "We overheard them—one of the officers," she began quietly. "They're bringing in a new crop for us to plant. It's why they came here in the first place."

"Well, what's wrong with a new plant?" Rex asked. "Raada's got plenty of farming space."

"It's not just any plant," Kolvin added bitterly, "it's a tasteless nourishment-packed starch they'll use for storm trooper rations."

Rex and Ahsoka looked at each other. "I'm… familiar with the crop," Rex began evenly, and Ahsoka knew that by "familiar", he meant "had eaten it on many a battlefield", and so had she.

"The Republic used it during the Clone War," she said carefully.

Chenna shook her head. "No, no, not that one. That crop is outdated. They used to farm it over on a neighboring moon. This isn't the same plant," she corrected, and Ahsoka suddenly felt stupid for trying to tell a farmer about farming. "This one's much worse. It sucks up all of the nutrients from the soil and leaves it useless for any other crop after just one harvest!"

"How do you know all this?" Vartan asked, and Ahsoka suddenly remembered he was there.

"Chenna and I overheard it with Hestu when we were walking near their office building," Banji explained. "Hestu said he'd heard of the new crop and what it had done to other agricultural moons like ours when he purchased stuff for his general store."

"And that's why they even bothered with us in the first place," Kolvin muttered. "They think we're just some useless rock that can be used and thrown away."

"That can't be right," Vartan said, shaking his head. Ahsoka and Rex glanced at each other once again. They agreed silently that what Chenna and the others were saying could easily be entirely true. Ahsoka wouldn't put it past the Empire to exploit a small moon like Raada. They could do whatever they pleased, including planting a crop-killing plant, harvesting what they need, and leaving the population to starve in the remaining dust. Raada was tiny. And in the Empire's eyes, it had a population that wouldn't be missed.

"We have to do something," Kolvin declared. He picked up a crokin piece and inspected it. "Maybe not like this… but something." Chenna and Banji nodded next to him. Even Vartan seemed to be giving in.

In the seat to their right, Hedala was unbothered, focused instead on finding out how small she could break the pieces of her cracks into.

"You're right," Ahsoka said rather abruptly, surprising herself and Rex, who swung his head around to gawk at her.

"We'd have to gather more information first, but…" Vartan concurred, furrowing his brow, "we could poke back at them a bit. A little rebellion, if you will."

"Rebellion is a big word, and not one you want to use lightly," Rex warned angrily. "There's no such thing as 'a little' rebellion. It only goes in one direction, and that's an insurgency. And with the Empire, insurgency only leads to one result: failure."

"It would be very risky," Ahsoka noted firmly.

"We could fight back," Kolvin protested. "We could get them out of our home!"

"Lower your voice!" Vartan said sharply. Like a scolded child, Kolvin nodded and lowered his head. Vartan took a deep breath before continuing. "Rex and Ashla are right. It would be very dangerous. _Too_ dangerous," he looked at Banji and Hedala, "for young children."

"I'm not a kid!" Banji pouted. "If I can use a farming hoe, I bet I can use a blaster."

Ahsoka, Chenna, Rex, _and_ Vartan all opened their mouths just to tell her how wrong she was, but Kolvin went on before they could.  
"But what else are we going to do?" he argued. "They've left us no choice. If we let them carry out their will, they'll destroy our fields and leave us with nothing."

"You cant—" Rex started, but his jaw slammed shut as soon as a handful of off-duty storm troopers walked in the bar. They took off their helmets, chitchatting, and went to get some drinks.

Their table grew silent. Ahsoka checked the crokin board once more just to make sure it didn't resemble anything of the Imperial compound.

"We'll meet tomorrow night," Kolvin decided, his voice a whisper. "We'll go to my house after the work day ends. We'll talk there."

Everyone at the table nodded slowly, except Rex, who's frustration was cemented into the lines of his sharp features. Grumbling to himself, he gripped his drink with white knuckles and forced himself to take swig. He shot Ahsoka a glare that said "we'll talk later". She rolled her eyes and took sip of her own.

"Well, well, look what the blurrg dragged in," rasped a voice from the bar. The crew all turned to look at the commotion. It was Tibbola, a local Gotal farmer. Everyone knew he was a mean drunk who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut after a couple drinks. It wouldn't be the first time he'd bickered with someone in the bar, but it would be the first time he picked it with a storm trooper. And this, of course, only made it infinitely worse.

"You got something to say, farmer?" one of the storm troopers jeered. He slammed his drink on the table and strode arrogantly towards Tibbola. The troopers behind him snickered.

Ahsoka instinctively reached for her belt, but before her hand even reached her hip, she remembered what she was looking for wasn't there. She glanced from the trooper to Tibbola before eyeing the blaster on Vartan's hip.

"You Imperials show up here and act like you own the place," Tibbola rattled angrily. He hiccupped once in his drunken stupor. "We don't need some core-slicker bucketheads telling us what to do around here."

Kolvin and Chenna shifted uncomfortably next to each other. Clearly, Ahsoka thought, they were conflicted, catching themselves in agreement with the drunk for once. Everyone was watching now. Even Hedala, whose big brown eyes stared up fearfully at the soldiers in white. Chenna put an arm around her and tugged her closer.

The trooper, at least a foot taller than Tibbola, towered over him menacingly. "That's because we do own the place, outer-rim scum," he gibed, getting into his face. "We're in charge, now."

Tibbola spat down onto his dusty white-plastoid boot.

That's it, Ahsoka thought. Her hand moved for the blaster on Rex's hip, but he was faster, and he grabbed her wrist.

"Not wise," he murmured, and she knew he was right. But her blood was simmering under her skin. It wasn't _in_ her to stand by and just watch, even if he was just a mean drunk. No innocent deserved death.

"Clean it," the trooper snarled. He jabbed a gloved pointer finger towards his boot.

"Not on my sorry, farmer life," Tibbola sneered.

The trooper snapped. "That's what it will have to be, then," he seethed. He raised his arm high, aiming for back-handed blow.

Ahsoka jumped to her feet, tearing her wrist free of Rex's grip, ready to kick away the trooper's hand and step in to be the mediator.

Vartan was closer. And faster. He shot up out of his seat and caught the trooper's elbow in a firm hold, throwing him off guard. The trooper tried to shrug him off, but Vartan's grip was tighter.

"Please excuse our drunk friend here," the older farmer said evenly, eyeing the trooper carefully. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"It sure sounded like he did," the trooper retorted, trying and failing again to shake off Vartan's grasp.

Vartan ignored him. "We'll pay for your drink as an apology, then you can be on your way. Tibbola was just leaving, anyway," he added shortly, casting a sideways glare at the drunk. With an irritated grunt, Tibbola grabbed the rest of his bottle and sauntered out of the cantina.

With the nuisance gone, Vartan released his hold. He dug in his pocket before pulling out some credits. "For you drink," he said placidly. He put the credits on the counter.

The trooper scrutinized him for a moment as though pondering his offer. But like any good enlisted soldier, an offer of a free drink was too much to pass up. "Fine," he yielded, swiping the credits off of the counter. He stuck his chin in the air before turning to go back to his buddies. "Just make sure you keep a better eye on your 'friend' next time."

"Of course," Vartan obliged, but the trooper had already given him his back. Sighing, Vartan returned to their table.

"What was that about?!" Kolvin hissed as soon as he sat down.

Vartan looked past him, reaching for a bite of food. He seemed tired. "Doing the right thing."

The Rodian scoffed. "What, so you're not only going to let them destroy our fields and our homes, but you're gonna pay for their drink, too?" he stormed. "Why don't you just let them stay at your house, while you're at it? In fact, why not just let them sleep in your bed? Or how about—"

"You watch your mouth, boy," Vartan warned, slamming a fist on the table, making Kolvin and everyone but Rex flinch back. "I'm the lead of this farming crew, and I can just as easily kick you off of it if you continue to act like this. You would be wise to follow my example and bridle your tongue."

"Vartan's right," Ahsoka found herself saying. "You don't have much of anything to go on, yet. Just rumors. And where you're at now, you can't really try to stop them. Be a mediator, not an instigator," she finished, recalling Master Obi-Wan's words as they slipped unchecked through her lips. She could almost _picture_ Anakin rolling his eyes in the background as he lectured them.

"What's an instigator?" Hedala asked in a small voice, breaking them all out of the severity of the moment and reminding everyone she was still there.

"I'll tell you later," Banji said to her. The younger girl reached a protective arm around her little sister and drew her close.

"Fine," Kolvin conceded bitterly. Ahsoka relaxed a little bit, and next to her, Rex did, too. Now, they knew he wouldn't run off and do something stupid without thinking. At least, not yet. "But as soon as the workday's over tomorrow…" he trailed off. He took a swig of his drink. "…my place. We'll meet there and figure out how to deal with our… problem."

Rex gave Ahsoka a wary glance. She knew he was thinking of the cave they'd yet to explore outside the city. She stared at her empty hands sitting in her lap, pensive. The urge to meditate pricked against her spine. She needed to think. Hard.

"If we are not careful," Vartan said lowly, "this could very well be the end of us."

"It will be for sure if we do nothing," Kolvin answered. His blue-flecked eyes darkened, and with a cold shudder, Ahsoka remembered the twinkling crystals in the cave in her dream.

He swallowed the rest of his drink and wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckles. "So we might as well go down trying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is just so like me to get carried away, write seven chapters, then go off to work for the week and forget to upload even just one of them. Anyway, there's more coming soon, kids, don't you worry.


	6. The Rebellion

Chapter 6: The Rebellion

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

"I've decided to trust you."

Kanan opened his eyes to see Hera standing over him, arms crossed indignantly over her chest with her chin titled upwards. He sat up groggily in the chair, and the memories came flooding back: The TIE fighters. The mystery ship. The pilot. The chase, the escape, the rebellion. The malicious astromech now hovering a few inches from his face with its sawblade outstretched.

Kanan cursed, jumping away from the droid in alarm, and smacked his head on the low overhang of controls in the process. He groaned tiredly. "You're gonna what now?" he asked, blinking back up at Hera.

She seemed unconcerned with his pain. "I said I've decided to trust you."

"Oh," he grunted, reaching up to rub his forehead. "That's good news." Much to his dismay, there was already a lump forming.

The petite Twi'lek started to pace the room. "For now, you can join my crew. But you have to prove yourself, first," she continued.

Her words sounded a little recited. "Didn't I already do that?" Kanan asked.

"Not yet."

He gave her a dubious look. "I'm pretty sure I already did that."

"Only partly," Hera compromised crossly. She straightened her back and tried to seem more threatening. It didn't work. "Think of it as a two-part initiation."

Kanan let his head fall back on the chair and he closed his eyes again. "Fine," he gave in, "what's the second part, then?"

Hera grinned, triumphant. "Great! When we get back on Lothal, you have to take the crates of food to the center of town and manage the distribution to the people. I'll take care of the weapons and my contact. Then we'll meet back at the ship when we're done."

Kanan blinked. "That's it?" he prompted. "That's the trial?"

"I never said it was going to be hard," Hera retorted, putting her hands on her hips. "I just have to make sure you really mean it—that you want to help."

That's fair, Kanan thought. He supposed he was just used to the Jedi-type tests where things are flying at you and you're ducking and getting hit and training remotes are constantly shooting beams at you everything's trying to knock you off your feet. Clearly, however, this was not that.

"So?" Hera urged, "are you up to the task?"

"Sure," Kanan nodded nonchalantly. He rubbed his head tenderly once more before getting out of the chair. "When do we head in?"

"Now, if we feel like it," she shrugged, glancing down at the moon. "Things should've calmed down over night, so we'll just head back in and land."

"Sounds like a plan."

Beaming, Hera spun around the pilot's chair and jumped in the seat. She turned on the ignition and the ship hummed to life. She flipped on the navigation controls, adjusted the altitude indicator, punched in Lothal's coordinates, and placed a firm hand on the lightspeed throttle. "We ready to jump, Chop?" she asked the droid to her right. He whirred excitedly in reply. Kanan braced himself as she yanked the throttle all the way back and the ship jumped into hyperspace.

After a few minutes of travelling through blurry stars and inky black, the ship arrived just outside of Lothal's atmosphere. Kanan gazed down at the planet he'd called home for the past five years and reminisced.

But there really wasn't anything memorable about it, so it was over in a few seconds. And the planet was pretty ugly.

"Chop, we're about to enter their atmosphere, so you better have the sensor scramblers _on_ this time," Hera ordered. The astromech beeped defiantly back. "No, I don't doubt your abilities, I'm just double-checking!" she assured exasperatedly. "I don't want to repeat yesterday's events. As fun as it was, we might not get so lucky again."

Kanan smirked. "By lucky, do you mean someone like me coming to the rescue?"

"No," Hera snorted, "I mean with the crash landing. Your presence made no difference to our survival."

"Oh really?" Kanan chuckled. "That's… not how I saw it. But believe what you want."

Next to him, Hera scowled. Her grip tightened on the controls. "Whatever," she grumbled. Kanan stifled a laugh. He'd out-come-backed her.

To his surprise and great relief, they passed seamlessly through the Imperial blockade to the planet's surface. They landed in the middle of a dry grass field, which resembled pretty much everywhere else on Lothal, but it was a place he hadn't been to before. The skyline of a small village could be seen on the horizon. "Tarkintown," Hera told him upon his confused face. "It's where a bunch of refugees were shoved after the Empire made their land useless for farming. It's named after the Grand Moff of the Outer Rim."

Admiral Tarkin, Kanan realized. He'd served under Master Piell during all three years of the war.

The bitterness of betrayal settled over his tongue. How people change.

"Those four crates go to the town. Take them to the plaza-thing in the center then meet back at the ship when they're empty. I'll take these two just down the road by the big egg-rocks," Hera explained as they disembarked, pulling the crates behind her. And Kanan had thought he'd just gotten rid of his job as a delivery boy. But he did as he was told and brought them to the town, waving to Hera and glancing warily at Chopper, who was staying with the ship.

Tarkintown truly was a ramshackle: a dirt patch with some tents and sheet-metal houses thrown up on what appeared to be streets and blo6cks. As soon as he brought the crates to what he assumed was the "plaza-thing" Hera had described, people edged out of their homes, at first cautious, but growing more confident as they got closer. More and more approached, and Kanan popped off the boxes of the crates, revealing striped violet jogan fruits, orange and yellow hubba gourds, and an abundance of ruby-red apples. The sight of them made Kanan's mouth water. He realized he hadn't eaten since Telma's.

The residents of the town clustered eagerly around the boxes, some just taking one, some stuffing their pockets, and others filling rucksacks. Weary smiles and thanks were exchanged, sometimes with words but sometimes just with grateful looks from gaunt eyes. All Kanan could do was nod back, unsure what to say. His appetite faded quickly.

A little girl caught his attention, her clothes so tattered and face so dusty it was hard to guess just how little she was. With a tiny hand, she struggled on her tip toes to reach into the box to take a fruit. Kanan quickly grabbed one and knelt down to hand it to her.

"Thank you, mister!" she chirped, sparkling brown eyes and bright smile at complete odds with her ragged state. Kanan stared back, at a loss.

The girl gave him a curious look before scampering off.

Before long, the crates were entirely empty, not a single piece of fruit left rolling around at the bottom. Unsure of what to do, Kanan covered the crates and left them to find Hera.

As he walked through the tumble-down streets, passing rusty, dilapidated buildings and cross-wire fences hardly left standing, he felt conflicted.

It just wasn't… right. People shouldn't be forced to live like this. Like nothing. To live like they _were_ nothing.

The feeling made him irritated. It made him sweat, if the harsh sun on the back of his neck wasn't already doing that. His hands fisted into his palms. All this time, this town had been here. Every hour he'd spent wandering in Capital City, these people had suffered. Even if he hadn't known of Tarkintown's existence, he should have felt it in the Force. Felt the pain, the misery. Felt something. And he'd just let it happen. He hadn't done _anything_.

But now wasn't the time to ruminate on such things. He needed to compartmentalize. Get the job done.

When he found Hera near the round boulders he assumed were the "egg-rocks" she'd mentioned, she was talking to a tall Devaronian surrounded by guard droids. She was bouncing excitedly. The droids seemed to be confused but entertained by her enthusiasm. Droids don't bounce.

"You mean the Wookies?" Hera asked eagerly as Kanan approached, green eyes shining.

"Yes, yes, the Wookies," the Devaronian reassured, waving his hands. "Simmer down. I'll give you all the details… if you agree to sell me the weapons for half the price."

"Half?" Hera echoed, her excitement quickly replaced by irritation, though it still bubbled underneath. "That's absurd! Do you know how expensive these are on the black market?!"

The Devaronian chuckled. "Sweetheart, I _am_ the black market. I decide the prices. And if you want the info on the Wookies, then you'll sell at half-price. Business is business."

"Half-price is a scam," Kanan broke in as he walked up, surprising the both of them. The guard droids immediately raised their blasters.

"He's a friend," Hera said quickly, flashing out a protective arm across his chest. A kind gesture, Kanan thought, but ultimately wouldn't provide very good defense.

The Devaronian only seemed mildly convinced by her words, but he motioned for the droids to lower their weapons either way.

"Vizago, this is Kanan. Kanan, Vizago," Hera introduced carefully, slowly dropping her arm.

"Pleasure," Vizago said dryly, holding out a hand.

"It's all mine," Kanan replied courteously, grasping his hand firmly and shaking it once. A smirk edged at the corners of Vizago's mouth, returned by Kanan. It's all in the grip.

"Half-price is absolutely ludicrous," Hera went on now that the pleasantries had finished. She planted her hands decisively on her hips. "I want full credits."

"Then no Wookie information," Vizago shrugged. He ran a hand over his horns as though he was slicking them back. "That's how I'll play."  
"What about three-quarters?" Kanan inquired, keeping his voice level. "Three-quarters plus the Wookie info would be an appropriate payment for the trouble of stealing these crates and giving them to you, in my opinion." He glanced towards Hera for approval.

She nodded her head confidently and stared expectantly at Vizago. "That would be a very fair trade. These crates were quite the hassle to obtain."

Vizago hesitated for a moment before giving in. "Three-quarters it is, then," he sighed, shaking his head. "As for the Wookies, I heard from a reliable source that there's an Imperial Transport ship passing through this sector sometime soon containing Wookie prisoners heading for an unknown slave labor camp," he informed, his voice lowering. "I have their flight plan. It's supposed to pass through tonight, though, so your window is small."

Kanan nodded assuredly while Hera resumed her enthusiastic bouncing. It seemed to Kanan that she wasn't fully aware of it.

"Welcome to the rebellion," she whispered excitedly into his ear.

With illegal weapons delivered, credits paid, and secret Wookie information given, the two were on their way. They boarded the ship, Kanan keeping a careful distance from Chopper, and took to the skies. They passed out of Lothal's atmosphere and through the Imperial blockade without any issues, something Kanan wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

"How did you get so many illegal installments on one ship, anyway? The whole thing just seems so unlikely," Kanan wondered, studying the control panels of the ship.

Hera chewed her cheek. "Oh, uh… just some friends who've got the parts to do it."

Kanan gave her a doubtful look but didn't push it. Trust would come with time, he supposed.

If he was planning to stay for that long.

Was he?

"This is the spot of the coordinates that Vizago gave me, so if he's right and we didn't just get gypped, the transport should just pass right through here at any time," Hera said once they arrived at the location.

Kanan leaned forward in his chair and looked out at the stars. There wasn't a single planet or moon in sight. "So you want to ambush them?" he asked. "Because, well, I hate to break it to you, but the two of us—"

Chopper bleeped angrily.

"…Right. The three of us," Kanan corrected, "aren't really a match for a hoarde of storm troopers."

"Well, that's why I'm not planning on ambushing them. I'm going to track them and follow them back to the slave camp," Hera said plainly. "Back to the source."

Kanan's head swiveled around, incredulous. "You're going to _what?_ Why? _How?_ If we aren't enough to face a ship-full of troopers, how do you expect us to deal with a whole camp?"

"Who ever said we'd go in with guns blazing?" Hera countered. "We'll sneak in, playing a part—you can be the slave, and I'll be the bounty hunter, it seems appropriate—then we'll free the prisoners. Many more prisoners than we'd have freed on a single transport, mind you. And with their help, we can overrun the guards there and fly out safely." She offered an optimistic grin. "Easy-peasy-jogan-squeezy."

Kanan stared at her blankly. "That sounds like a terrible plan."

Hera shrugged. "Where's the fun without a little risk?"

"Honestly? Best case scenario, death. Worst case, life-long sentences to slavery."

Hera rolled her eyes, ignoring him. "Well, I'm the leader, so I make the plan. And the rules. In fact, I've just invented Rule Number Two: Don't question Hera's judgements," she stated matter-of-factly.

"What was Rule Number One?"

There was a moment of silence before Hera spoke again. "No stealing any of my rylothan chocolate from the top left cupboard in the storage room."

Kanan raised a brow. "Why? You don't like sharing?"

"Kanan!" she puffed in mock exasperation, "I just told you Rule Number Two, didn't I?"

The Imperial transport was taking much longer than they expected. Hours longer, in fact. Kanan was starting to doze off while Hera mindlessly twiddled with a keychain. Even Chopper seemed to get bored, aimlessly rolling around the ship looking for something to fix.

"So where are you from, anyway?" Hera asked after a while, right as Kanan's eyelids started to close. "Not Lothal, surely."

"No, uh," he stammered, caught off guard, "…Coruscant. But I wasn't there all the time. I kinda moved around my whole life." It wasn't _entirely_ a lie, he convinced himself, considering the circumstances.

"Topside or lower levels?" she went on.

"Uh… middle-ish?"

"And your parents?"

"Never met them."

"Oh," she faltered, startled, "I'm… sorry to hear that."

Kanan waved a hand nonchalantly. "Don't be. I had some pretty good people. Like a… an older sister, of sorts," he added. Master Billaba deserved _some_ credit, even if it was only a half-truth.

Hera nodded slowly at his words before an awkward silence settled over the ship. Kanan's eyes started to drift close again.

"I'm from Ryloth," Hera started awkwardly, "though… that's probably obvious, now that I think about it."

"Little bit," Kanan replied, keeping his eyes shut.

"My father fought in the resistance against the Separatists during the Clone Wars," she continued. "He and my mother fought together for years, before she died. They even worked with some Jedi, at some points. But I was still a little too young to remember it clearly."

Kanan's eyes opened at the mention of the Jedi, but Hera was facing away from him, her gaze resting on the stars.

"After the Empire, though, that obviously didn't work out too well. Since then, he's started his own movement. It's going… as well as one can expect it to, in these times," she murmured, disappointment slipping unevenly into her tone. "But my father's still fighting."

"What made you leave and do this?" Kanan asked, his interest piqued.

Hera shook herself and turned to face him, the faraway look in her eyes quickly disappearing. "Moved on to bigger fish, I suppose. I wasn't of much use back home, so I figured I might as well try to make a difference somewhere else."

"Well," Kanan began. He remembered the dust-covered little girl from Tarkintown. "It's working. You're really doing some good down there on Lothal for people who really need it."

When she didn't respond, Kanan turned to look at her. Her pretty green eyes were stretched wider than saucers and a whisper of a smile pulled at the corners of her parted lips. Unless someone told him otherwise, it looked as though she'd never been given praise before.

Before he could say anything, the radar started to beep and Chopper whirred loudly. Half a second later, a massive grey vessel jumped in front of them. Large black block letters scrawled across its side read _IT-651_.

"The transport!" Hera gasped, bolting upright and grabbing the controls. "Chopper, calculate every possible destination along their last known trajectory! Quick!"

Kanan strained to get a better look at the ship. If he were to guess, they were just letting the hyperdrives cool down before making their next jump. They might only stay there for a few minutes longer. "Can you track a ship through hyperspace?" he asked, peering at blinking icon on the radar that marked the transport's existence.

"Yes, I can," Hera said, "but only if they have an exit vector. And lucky for me, every Imperial vessel's got one of those. It's a mandatory part of their construct. Once they jump, we'll get the coordinates of where to and follow them. And with the Ghost's trusty sensor scramblers, they won't detect a thing," she finished proudly.

Kanan nodded and swallowed his unease. She'd done this before, so she couldn't be _too_ wrong, right? All he needed to do was have a little faith in his new friend.

True to his conjecture, the Imperial Transport booted up its hyperdrive and launched away. A few seconds later, a set of coords flashed on the monitor.

"Worked flawlessly, as per usual," Hera said smugly. Chopper activated the sensor scramblers as she fired up the hyperdrive and pulled back on the throttle. "Wookies, here we come!"

They were in hyperspace for a while, but not too long, so they knew their destination was probably somewhere nearby in the Outer Rim. Kanan's fingers fidgeted nervously the whole time. He wasn't sure if it was the Force or just his gut, or a combination of both, but he didn't have the greatest feeling about the whole ordeal.

Faith, he reminded himself, have faith. Hera's not incompetent. She knows what she's doing.

They jumped in right above the planet. The rocky, dark-orange and rust-red colored planet loomed beneath them, striking instant recognition and Kanan's mind.

"It's Kessel," he stated.

"Oh no," Hera breathed.

Kanan frowned. "What do you mean, _oh n—_ "

A flurry of beeping alarms erupted on the systems indicator. The radar display flared as several dots representing ships flickered onto the screen, all headed directly for the Ghost.

"Uh, Hera…" Kanan started. The ships were closing in fast enough that he could see them out the window.

"I'm working on it!" she said frantically, flipping switches and pushing buttons, trying to get the hyperdrive back online.

"They're closing in!"

"I know!" she yelled. She moved wildly about and yanked back the throttle as the engines whirred to life. "Come on, come on!"

The ship started to move but grinded to a sharp halt. The ship jerked to the side, sending Kanan and Hera lurching forward in their seats and Chopper rolling into a wall.

They were caught in a tractor beam.

"I thought you said the sensor scramblers would get us through!" he shouted.

"And they would have, if this wasn't Kessel!" Hera shot back, voice panicked. She continued to desperately flick switches and press buttons.

Kanan's heart thumped so hard it felt like it would crack his ribs. "Well, what's so different about Kessel from other planets?!"

Hera's motions slowed despairingly as the ship stubbornly continued to stay put. She knew it was useless. They both did. "It's… it's because… the Pykes have control here. It's their sensors that detect ships coming in and out. And…" she trailed off, biting her lip nervously.

"And?" Kanan pressed.

Hera held her breath. After a pause, she let it out, her face falling into her hands. "And the Pykes are the ones who _built_ the Ghost's sensor scramblers, and all of her other installments, so they can still detect it!"

Kanan went rigid.

Hera slumped lower in her chair. "And… and that's not all…"

"Oh, it isn't," Kanan said flatly. His head was spinning to fast to even begin to comprehend everything.

"I… used to make some deliveries for the Pykes. Just moving credits, not spice. That's how I got the installments. And once they finished, I… I took the ship and ran."

Kanan stared at her blankly. He blinked once before he detonated.

"The _Pykes_?! You were laundering money for the _Pyke Crime Syndicate_?! And then you _stole_ their _ship_?!" He ran his hands frenziedly through his hair, eyes wide and forehead wrinkled. "I… I don't even _understand_ the words coming out of my mouth!"

"We've all done things we aren't proud of!"

"Yeah, and committing an intergalactic felony isn't one of them!"

"I was young! I didn't know what I was doing!"

"The Pykes sure don't see it that way!"

Kanan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths. The guard ships were pulling them down to the surface, dragging them along in the tractor beam. "What do we do, what do we do…"

Hera dragged her hands over her face. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking!"

The ground got close and closer. Kanan could see the towers of smoke spiraling off the surface. "Think faster!"

"I've got it!" Hera exclaimed, sitting upright in her chair. "They'll recognize me. So I'll… I'll say you're my bounty. A really strong slave that I've brought back as an apology for taking their ship. And we can use some of the credits from Vizago, if we need to. Do you have any super-weird abilities or talents that you can use to impress them? To appear more valuable?" she asked hurriedly, staring up at Kanan hopefully.

Yeah, he could name a few. Being a force-wielder and being trained in martial arts were just a handful of 'talents' that came to mind.

"…No."

"Darn it!" she groaned. "Well, whatever. It'll have to do. Your arms are beefy enough that you'll pass for abnormally strong or something, anyway. We'll just have to figure it out as we go. It could work."

Kanan blinked. Did she just compliment his arms?

"And I promise I won't actually let you become a slave or anything," she added. "Just follow my lead."

"That's comforting," he replied tartly.

The ship shuddered and screeched. They'd landed. Guardsmen poured out of the ships that had dragged them in and ran towards them before skidding to a stop with their blasters raised and ready to shoot.

"Okay, time to go," Hera squeaked anxiously. She grabbed the coin purse full of credits from Vizago and pulled out a piece of metal wire from her toolbox. "Here, make these look like handcuffs," she said, tossing the wire to Kanan. "Chopper, stay with the ship. Keep your communicators on. We might need you for a speedy pick up some point soon."

Kanan forced his mind to stop racing with ideas of all the ways this could go terribly, terribly wrong and focused instead on bending the wire around his wrists. It looked half-assed, but it would do the job.

Hera grabbed his elbow and shoved him forwards, making him stumble. She jabbed the barrel of her blaster in between his shoulder blades.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, but it's gotta be realistic," she hissed, but she eased the pressure on his back nonetheless. "The safety on my blaster is on, don't worry."

Kanan was very worried. And there were many reasons to be worried right now. He didn't even try to count how many.

Hera pushed a button and the onramp of the Ghost slowly lowered to the ground. Outside, the air was hot and dry and swirling with red dust. Seven hired guards stood in front of them, poised and ready to shoot.

"Hi there," Hera called out uneasily, offering a slight smile.

The guards didn't say a word. The metal rims of their blasters glinted in the sun.

Kanan swallowed.

All he needed was a little faith, right?


	7. The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I changed the tags- see my defense in the notes at the end of the chapter. Don't hate me... yet.... just hear me out ;)

Chapter 7: The Fear

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

The walk to the caves outside of town was a long one, so at the crack of dawn, Ahsoka and Rex decided to run there. Most people in the galaxy hated running, but then again, they weren't really most people.

As they booked it, placing one foot in front of the other, they grew less tense. Loosened their shoulders. Relaxed their spines. They could pretend they were back in the war, sprinting across the battlefield to their next position, dodging blaster fire and jumping over battle droids and explosions. Ahsoka even threw in a couple front flips and somersaults as they ran, for the heck of it. Rex just rolled his eyes, hiding an amused smirk, and kept up a regular double-time pace.

The wind whipped across the base of their skulls and stung their cheeks. The sun hid behind dreary, overcast clouds that sent a dash of rain drizzling down. They relished in it. They savored it. They felt a spark.

The caves loomed ever closer, and along with it, the promise of tactical preparation, defense construction, and strategic planning. In other words, everything a pair of military geniuses would thrive on.

Ahsoka felt as if she'd dove headfirst into an icy lake: shivering, awake. Rex's eyes were alert and the hard lines around his jaw had softened. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in the crisp outside air.

By sunrise, they had passed through the fields, keeping careful watch to make sure they were unseen. They slowed to a walk, although a bit reluctantly, as they climbed up the jagged rocks to access the cave entrances. Finally, they pulled themselves up onto a ledge that opened up to three separate caves mouths, one large and the other two more narrow.

"Let's start with the medium one," Ahsoka said, pointing to the in-between cave. "It's less obvious than the biggest one but not as uncomfortable as the other small one." For Rex's benefit, she left out that the medium one would probably be too tight for him. And that she knew how much he hated tight spaces.

Rex nodded, determined, and stepped into the mouth of the cave. Ahsoka saw his hand reach up through the shadows to flick on the flashlight clipped to his helmet only to lower slowly when he realized it wasn't there.

"Here," Ahsoka said quietly, digging around in her satchel before giving him a hand-held flashlight.

"Thanks." He did well to conceal the dejected embarrassment that lingered in his tone, but Ahsoka still heard it.

The flashlight flickered on, but it was of poor quality. Dim, grey-ish white light bounced off of the rugged stone walls. Stalactites dripped down from the cave ceiling, casting dark, looming shadows that danced across the walls and the floor.

"We'll have to break some of these off if they're too low," Rex grunted, leaning awkwardly to the far right to avoid hitting his head on one of the longer stalactites. "They could injure someone if they don't see it." As soon as the words left his mouth, he bumped backwards into an equally-long stalagmite rising up from the floor, sending him stumbling to the ground.

Ahsoka snorted. "Like that?"

"Oh, shut it," Rex growled, getting up slowly. He rubbed his tailbone tenderly. "It's not my fault I'm still taller than you."

"It may not be your fault, but it _is_ your problem."

A drop of water dripped off the ceiling and splashed on Rex's forehead.

"Yeah," he muttered, wiping it away with the back of a hand, "it is."

The cave continued deeper. It got darker, and colder, but it started to widen as it went further down. Eventually the ceiling rose so far above them—or had they travelled so far down?—that it towered above them, far out of reach. The cave hollowed out into a cavern of sorts, the walls growing wide and round to form a sort of alcove before splintering off into three more narrower, darker tunnels.

"Now this," Rex said, "is what I had in mind."

"It's got plenty of space to store crates of food, as well as several crevices in the wall to stack blasters and tuck away smaller arms," Ahsoka nodded. "But if we want to fit crates in here, we'd have to knock out those stalactites to clear the way, like you said."

"Where would we be getting said crates and weapons, anyway?"

Ahsoka paused. She hadn't quite thought of that part, yet. "We… could steal them from the Imperials? They've got a couple storage sheds near the barracks."

"And break into those, all by ourselves?" Rex shook his head. "I know we've got some skills, but not enough to go two-on-twenty just for some crates of food."

Ahsoka pursed her lips. He was right, and she knew it. It was just hopeful thinking.

Unable to come up with any ideas, they sank back into what they knew best: routine. Military procedure. They slipped into processes without a second thought.

First: check for danger. Any animals, shady figures, reconnaissance droids, or anything that could be living there or listening in.

Ahsoka held the flashlight over Rex's shoulder while he stood in front of them, blaster locked into his hands, ready for anything. They travelled carefully at least thirty minutes deep into each narrow passage that branched off of the main cavern.

Second: stabilize your area. Any obstructions or potential hazards that could cause injury or harm.

They checked for loose rocks on the walls, knocked off the tips of stalagmites that were too sharp for their liking, and removed any obstructions from the ground that could trip someone up.

Third: stage your gear. Organize yourself and your resources, keeping in mind a list of priorities of what you would need in an emergency.

They hadn't brought much, but they did with what they had. Rex had made a handful of ration packs of uncooked patuu rice, raw potatoes, and dried vegetables which he stacked neatly on a naturally-formed shelf in the cave wall. Ahsoka sorted and stashed the array of parts she'd brought from the shop in a divot in the along the wall.

Last: Settle and set up a watch schedule. First patrol begins immediately, rotating with other watch standers on a four-hour basis in high-tension areas, eight-hour in others.

Rex took their two bedrolls out of the back and laid them neatly near the weapons area and away from the entrance. Wordlessly, Ahsoka took the first watch. By a silent agreement, they'd understood that the last bit of procedure wasn't feasible or necessary. But she stood near the entrance of the cave either way, occasionally travelling up to the mouth and back to be safe, holding the flashlight to help Rex when she could. But the faint sunlight filtering in from the far-away cave entrance was dimming.

Her mind wandered as she gazed at the light of the setting sun. Its burnt-orange glow trickled into the cave, sharp against the dark blues and cold purples of the cave. The water droplets dangling from the ceiling were set alight and the flecks of quartz-like stone in the walls glinted. The Force danced in all of it.

Ahsoka squinted past the long shadows cast by the amber light and tried to feel it, to feel the Force as she used to. Her head started to ache and her retinas burned, but it was around her, everywhere. She closed her eyes, where mauve and violet sunspots bloomed across the inky black of her eyelids.

The omniscient presence of the Force wreathed around her like silk. It left whispers of a caress down her spine and brushed against her shoulder blades. It murmured against her montrals and sighed under her lips, relishing in her presence.

No one had been in these caves for a long, long time. And, gentle and soft, from far deeper within the cave, a scattering of kyber crystals lifted their voices to sing their age-old hymns.

"We should get back soon."

Ahsoka started at the touch of Rex's calloused hand on her shoulder and sucked in a breath. He flinched back and a silent question of concern flicked across his gaze, but he stayed silent.

"Right," she stammered, "it'll be dark soon."

Ahsoka pushed herself up onto their table and took a seat. Rex closed their door and set his rucksack down before moving over to the window. He pulled back the tattered curtain with two fingers and peered out the dusty window for a moment before letting it fall back into the place. "I don't think we were followed," he stated.

"Why would anyone want to follow a pair of mechanics?"

"We can never be too careful," he warned, walking past the shelves full of blasters, tools, and droids they needed to fix. He paused in front of a crouched pit droid and stared at his reflection on its shiny metal cap. Her rubbed the stubble-turned-beard on his chin. "Not good," he muttered.

"It isn't too bad," Ahsoka shrugged. She cocked her head to one side. "Kinda gives you a rugged look. Like a pirate, or a gunslinger, with roguish good looks and a devilish intention."

Rex scowled at her.

"Relax, relax, I'm kidding. Your face is gonna break if you keep frowning so hard. And no one likes a broken face."

"We should start trying to move some of our gear over to the caves throughout this week," Rex went on, changing the subject.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes but listened anyway. She really didn't think the stubble was that bad.

"We should go together, maybe one trip per day, but at irregular times. The Empire knows to look for patterns, so that's the last thing we want to create."

"Maybe we should make separate trips," Ahsoka put in. "If we split up, one person can stay with the shop so we stay open. It'll be less suspicious than if we were closing at random times during the day."

"That's true," Rex admitted, thinking it over. "Right then. We'll take turns bringing supplies to the caves. But it might take longer, so we'll bump it up to two trips per day, one each. We can start tomorrow." Satisfied with their plan, he started to go through the shelves, deciphering what would be useful in the caves and what could stay in the shop.

Ahsoka stayed still in her spot on the table. "We won't be able to do this alone," she murmured.

Rex stopped abruptly and turned looked at her. "Why not?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "You said it yourself. Two-against-twenty are impossible odds. We're not fighting them head on, but… we can't gather everything—weapons, food, water," she counted them off on her fingers, "—by ourselves. We'll need help."

Rex crossed his arms, stern. "And where do you suppose we get that? This is a planet of _civilians_ , not soldiers. We don't have any troops, any backup, and definitely not anyone we can trust. It's just us."

"We could trust our friends, Rex," Ahsoka argued, the word feeling odd in her mouth. Even he raised a brow at the term.

Neither of them had really had "friends" before and she wasn't sure either of them were ready to admit that that's what their cantina/crokin group was quickly starting to become.

But she decided to go on. "They could help us. They could help us gather all of the supplies we need."

"But they are _farmers_ ," he stressed, running a hand through his hair.

"And we've trained farmers before," she countered. She got off the table and stalked over to him, arms folded crossly. "Don't you remember the nysillin farmers on Felucia? Or the Lurmens on Maridun?"  
"I do," he answered steadily, "but this is—"

"Different?" she cut him off, scoffing. "I hardly see how."

"Because it is! The people on Raada know nothing of war, and we have no resources—"

"They can help us get those resources."

"Not if they kill themselves doing it!"

"Well, we won't let them! We will train them, and we can protect them."

"Protect them how? Just us?" he furrowed his brow. "It's impossible. And it's too dangerous. We'd be risking too much."

She glared up at him, the tip of her nose a breath away from his chin. "And just what would we be risking, Rex? We have nothing to lose anymore. Nothing."

"That's not true—"

"Then tell me what there is to lose!"

"You!" he shouted, grabbing her shoulders and startling her. His fingers sunk into her skin.

"Each other. We could lose each other," he insisted. The desperation gleamed in his eyes and his breath was trembling as it brushed against the bridge of her nose. He loosened his grip, but still held her close. His voice shuddered into a low whisper. "I can't lose you."

Ahsoka stared back at him, dumbstruck. Her tongue was numb and her lips were cold but her cheeks felt warm. "Rex, I…"  
"We've lost everything, Ahsoka," he murmured, releasing her and looking away. He turned his back to her and lowered his head into his hands. "And the thought… the fear… of losing all I have left is… it's—it's too much."

"Rex," she began softly, but drifted. Her head was starting to spin and words were failing her.

She reached out with a tentative hand and placed it with feather-light on his shoulder. Her palm met the heat of his skin and the tension in his shoulder.

"You won't lose me. Not this time. I… I promise."

Slowly and reluctantly, as if he was ashamed, Rex looked over his shoulder to face her.

The grief swirled like gold in the warmth of his tawny brown eyes, and Ahsoka felt herself sinking.

So she let herself drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yes, this is now a Rex/Ahsoka slowburn, and if I'm being honest, it always was and I was just kidding myself. I would really never want that pairing in canon, but alas, this is not canon. It's fanfiction.  
> But it's not going to be overly... romance-y, or whatever. Like I say. A slowburn.  
> Apologies to those who came for the BroTP-- but honestly, you could probably still read this as such, just kinda depends how you look at it.  
> Anyway, that's my defense. Love always. Enjoy.


	8. The Faith

Chapter 8: The Faith

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Kanan always knew that after the Jedi purge, it was just a matter of time before he was going to die.

However, he did not expect it to be this soon.

"Hi there," Hera called out uneasily. She offered a sheepish smile.

But with the way the guards were currently brandishing their blasters, he expected it would at least be quick and painless.

"We… I, uh, I've brought you a prisoner."

That is, hopefully, if, they had good aim.

"Hera Syndulla, you are under arrest and to be taken under custody for your crimes against the Pyke Family and the planet of Oba Diah," one of the guardsmen barked, raising his blaster higher. The circle of guards started to close in on them.

"No, no, wait! I can explain!" Hera yelled frantically, waving her free arm. She pointed at Kanan. "I've brought—"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the courts of Oba Diah."

"Listen, will you?!" Hera jabbed the nose of her blaster between Kanan's shoulders again, making him flinch. "I'm _saying_ that—"

"According to Pyke law, you would have the right to a galactic attorney. If you could not afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Great, Kanan thought miserably. Now they would have to deal with the most complicated thing in the galaxy: legal matters.

"However, due to the insignificant nature of your crimes and the immense amount of business the Pyke courts are already attending to, you will be taken into custody and executed by firing squad at dawn."

Hera's jaw dropped.

"What?!"

The guards had gotten close enough that one of them grabbed at her elbow. Another snatched up Kanan's poorly-tied wrists and inspected them.

"Hey, just hold on a damn minute!" Hera snapped. She yanked her elbow back, fuming. "Let me speak, would you?!"

The lead guard blinked in surprise, and Kanan did, too. It was a lot of anger for such a little Twi'lek lady.

Hera took the guard's silence as permission. "If you hadn't been so busy acting al high-and-mighty, you would've learned that I'd actually brought something of value to the Pyke Family."

The guard's blaster titled down ever so slightly as his curiosity grew. "And what would that be?"

"What would that be?" Hera scoffed, "only one of the _strongest_ humans in the Outer Rim. The mines of Kessel would be _lucky_ to have him as a slave."

She haughtily dragged a finger along Kanan's jawline, sending his cheeks blooming red as he visibly tensed.

"He's strong enough that he'd put out twice the work of any usual slave. Maybe even _three_ times. Which, of course, makes him three times the price."

"You think the Pyke Syndicate would pay a common thief such as yourself?" the guard jeered.

"Of course not!" she answered hurriedly. "He's a gift! An apology, for the… inconveniences… that I caused the Syndicate."

"The records state the property you stole was worth thousands of credits," he said shortly. "Surely, this slave cannot match that price."

"Oh, but he can. Just wait 'till you see him work," she purred.

If it was possible, Kanan felt even more uncomfortable.

Hera didn't take notice. "Plus, I brought back the ship I borrowed, and I'm ready to get back to my job. So, between the slave and the ship, you can consider my debt paid."

"If this slave is so strong," the guard holding Kanan's wrists broke in, "why wouldn't he just break free of these flimsy restraints?"

Silence ensued as the guards awaited Hera's excuse.

"He's… obedient?"

Way to sound convincing, Kanan thought. Might as well hand over her weapon while she's at it, at this rate.

More silence. And then,

"Hera Syndulla, you are under arrest and to be taken under custody for your crimes against the Pyke Family and the planet of Oba Diah!"

"Wait, no!" Hera gasped, but the guard had already grabbed her arm and re-pointed his blaster at her chest.

"Your feeble excuse for your arrival here on Kessel is not enough to fool me or the members of the Pyke Family. You will be detained and executed in the morning!"

"You've got it all wrong!" Hera insisted, but the guard ignored her.

"Insolent thief!" he seethed. He raised his fist and Hera instinctively put her arms over her head to block.

With a shout, Kanan swung his tied wrists high in the air and brought them down hard, striking the guard over the head. He yelled and stumbled backwards. Kanan whirled around and landed a kick on the next guard's jaw. The blood was pounding in his ears and muscles itched to fight.

He dodged a shot from another guard and did a flying kick to knock the blaster out of his hands. With another grunt, he slammed his elbow backwards before the guard could react. A satisfying _crack_ sounded in the air as elbow met nose and bone fractured.

"Kanan, look out!" came Hera's urgent voice.

But he was out of practice, and he didn't see the guard pistol-whip his blaster so that the grip was raised high over his head.

There was a sharp thud. And then stars.

Kanan didn't come to until the metal bars clanged shut and the guard hooked the keys on his belt. The second his eyes opened, Hera was at his side, hands hovering and eyes watering.

"Kanan!" she breathed in relief, leaning over him. Her eyes darted all over him. "I thought you were—"

"It'll have to take more than that to kill me," he cut her off, groaning, "…like you said, I'm super strong… or something."

"Oh, don't you start," she muttered, but the concern was still there. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, putting on her best annoyed face. She put her hands under his head and lifted gently, much to his surprise and discomfort.

"Hey, what are you—"

"Checking your head. Now hold still," she scolded, "I need to see if you're bleeding bad."

She propped his head up on her leg and started to comb through his hair with her fingers. Kanan winced as she brushed against the gash on his head, but clamped his mouth shut. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathing as she continued to search. Her touch was light and it sent a shiver trickling down his spine.

"It doesn't look too bad," Hera conceded after a few minutes, but she didn't remove her hands. Kanan opened his eyes to see her eyebrows knitted together in determination as she hunched over him.

She'd moved on from the injury, distracted by a knot in his hair. She worked diligently to detangle it.

He coughed, and she blinked.

"Oh, right," she said awkwardly, sitting back.

Kanan slowly sat up from her lap, grimacing as he propped himself up on his elbows. His hands were still poorly bound by the thin wire. "So, I'm gonna live, right?"

Hera shrugged. "I mean, I guess. You might have brain damage, but you might've already had that before."

Kanan snorted and let his shoulder slack a bit. He stared around their cell. There were cement walls on either side of them and iron bars in front, with one door and a lock. The ground was stone and covered in red dust. They were underground, if he had to guess.

"The Ghost isn't too far, if that's what you're wondering," Hera put in. She let out a deep sigh and draped her arms over her knees. "They dragged us through the shipyard and down into this… prison, or whatever."

"They're executing us tomorrow, right?"

Hera nodded dismally. She buried her nose into her sleeve and mumbled something that came out muffled.

"What was that?" Kanan asked.

"Nothing, I…"

She raised her head towards Kanan. Guilt tumbled over her face when they locked eyes, taking him by surprise.

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have paid more attention, recognized the coordinates or something, and then maybe we wouldn't have—"

"Hera," Kanan cut her off gently, sitting up. He scooched over so that he was sitting next to her and their shoulders were touching. "This isn't your fault. We just need to focus on finding a way out of here, alright?"

"… alright," she faltered, still sinking into herself. "But I'm still sorry."

"Of course you are. You're stubborn."

She stared at him with pretty, wet eyes, offered a weak smile, and nodded, making Kanan's heart twist.

He'd be damned if he didn't figure a plan, and fast. Especially with the way she was looking at him like _that_.

Hera rubbed her eyes with her wrist and shook herself. "Alright, alright," she started with a tremor of confidence. She stood up and brushed red dirt off her knees. "There's a guard on the outside of the entrance. And I saw they put my blaster on the shelf near said entrance. So, if we can get out, I can grab that blaster, knock him out, and we could try to sneak out."

Kanan closed his eyes and tried to think, hard. They need to get out, to escape, somehow. He tried to remember if there was anything like this that he might've seen in his training or during the war. He'd heard of Master Qui-gon's escape from the Gungan City, but that was more of a youngling legend. He'd heard of Master Piell's breakout from The Citadel, but that had just been gossip, not anything about methods or strategies. And he'd heard of Padawan Tano's escape from the Temple Prison, but it was rumored her Master had helped her, so that didn't get Kanan anywhere, either.

So, he tried thinking harder. Focusing more. Remembering more. But there was nothing. At least, nothing his dumb brain could scrape up and remember.

He glanced down at his hip. The two halves of his lightsaber, looking like useless trinkets, were still clipped on to his belt.

But that, Kanan reminded himself quickly, alongside using the Force, was an absolute last resort. And they weren't quite there, at least, not yet.

"I'm really good at picking locks," Hera put in, "but… only when I have a lock pick. Which I don't."

Kanan struggled to his feet, his head throbbing from the blow. He hoped Hera was right and that it wasn't too bad. He might have a mild concussion, but that he could deal with. Cranial damage and a swelling brain, on the other hand, was a little bit more difficult.

"But I don't really see another way to get out of here. These bars are made of iron, and I, for one, can't bend metal," Hera went on, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Kanan asked, coming out of his thoughts and walking over to stand next to her.

"I said I can't bend metal. Why, can you?" A tease glinted in the green of her eye.

"No, I can't," he deadpanned. "But before that. What did you say before that?"

"I… said I'm good at lock picking. But I don't have a lock pick."

Kanan lifted his tied wrists. "Will this do?"

Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of the thin wire. "It just might," she said excitedly.

Her previous trepidation forgotten, she grabbed his hands and hastily worked to untie them, which wasn't really too hard. Once it was free, Kanan watched over her shoulder as she twisted and yanked the metal to mold it into a needle-like hook with. Within moments, her newly-fashioned lockpick was complete. She quickly took it over to the door and stuck her arms through and around the bars to try it.

Kanan tried not to worry too much as he waited. Hera was busy with her wrist bent at an awkward angle as she fumbled with the wire in the lock, her tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she focused.

If the lockpick didn't work, they'd need to find another way out. Digging would take too long, and the floor was made of stone, anyway. If a guard came by, he could try using a mind trick, but he never really got good enough at that to be anywhere near competent. Maybe he could use the Force to get the key off of the guard's belt—but, that guard was outside, and they would need to lure him in somehow. And then, even if they did do all that, he'd have used the Force and they'd really be in deep poodoo, so that wasn't an option, either. Maybe he could—

"I got it," Hera whispered, sending a wave of relief washing over Kanan. The lock clicked into place. A loud creaking bounced off the stone walls as Hera slowly pushed the door open.

"Could you do that any louder?" Kanan hissed.

"It's rusty!"

Despite her sharp retort, Hera tried to open it more slowly. When it was wide enough, they stepped free of their prison cell and tiptoed down the hallway, passing cobwebs and more empty cells. Like Hera had said, her blaster was sitting on the shelf, left unguarded.

What a poor slip-up, Kanan thought. Leaving prisoners unguarded, and a weapon out in the open? The clones would never have made such rookie mistakes.

Hera grabbed her blaster, and they snuck up and out of the prison. Kanan stealthily came up behind the guard at the entrance, grabbed his head, yanked it back, and wrapped the crook of his arm around his mouth, suffocating him. He slid to the ground unconscious moments later.

From where they were standing, they could see the Ghost at the end of the shipyard, right where they'd left her. But several guards still milled about the yard, guns ready and stances alert.

"We'll have to take them out silently, one by one," Kanan whispered, crouching down behind a row of storage bins.

Hera nodded and hunkered next to him, clutching her blaster tight against her shoulder. "We could split up and take care of them faster, then meet back at the ship," she suggested.

"Good idea," Kanan said. But the thought of her being on her own made him a bit wary. He gestured to her blaster. "Does that have a stun setting?"

"If it did, I would have put it on already, dumbass."

Deciding that that was fair enough, Kanan swallowed his own dumbass-ery and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll take the ones on the left, and you go right. Then we'll meet back at the ship, like you said. Just remember to take it slow and careful."  
"I know, I know," she huffed. "Don't mother me. I know what I'm doing. I've probably done this more than you have."

"Okay, relax, I'm just making sure."

"Relax? Don't tell me to relax!"

"Fine," Kanan gave up, now letting the eye roll slip by guiltlessly. "Then don't give me reason to."

Hera gave him a glare so murderous he felt it take three years off his life right then and there. "You just have to have the last word, don't you?" she growled.

Kanan didn't have the courage to see what would happen if he proved her right.

They went through the plan one last time, just to be sure. Hera counted out the guards again while Kanan whispered the stealthiest route to take. She locked her gaze firmly on his as he spoke, resolutely hanging on to every word. Her eyes gleamed with determination and trust.

The clear, sincerity of the faith she had in him was almost overwhelming. Kanan wasn't sure how to handle it. He also wasn't sure if the dizziness he felt was because of the sweltering heat of the planet, the blow to his head, or the way she was unconsciously biting her lip as she thought the plan through one more time.

With the plan finalized, they moved silently through the guards, taking them out one by one, Hera with the grip of her blaster and Kanan with the crook of his arm. There were a couple instances he could see out of the corner of his eye where she almost slipped up by stepping on a branch or not hitting them hard enough, and he almost died inside each time, but she always recovered and took them out before he could panic and before the guards could sound the alarm.

The Kessel sun was burning on the back of his neck and he could see the sweltering heat in blurry waves across the shipyard. Sweat trickled down the bumps in his spine and collected behind his ears and in the crevices in his palm. His arm was getting tired and the number of unconscious bodies on the ground was growing. The Ghost was getting closer, and it was only then that he realized there were seven more guards—about five or six more than they could handle on their own—were guarding the ship.

It was also then that he saw Hera, seemingly having already noticed the guards, say something into the commlink on her arm. A second later, the Ghost hummed to life, causing the two guards keeping post in front of it to jump back in surprise.

A triumphant beep from a certain feisty astromech echoed from inside.

Kanan swallowed. If they just stayed put for a moment, then they wouldn't suspect anything more—"

"Hey! Over here!"

Kanan snapped his head around at light speed to see Hera jump out from behind another ship in the yard with arms waving. He had just enough time to register what exactly she was trying to do before his heart plummeted like a brick into his belly.

Oh, _Force_ no. That wouldn't do.

"Hera!" he called out, but the guards were already shooting and she was already ducking and running. To his left, two more guards heard him and ran in his direction. To his right, the Ghost started to lift off of the ground, sending red dust billowing outwards. It clouded up and clogged the air, making visibility low, near impossible. The guards started coughing and waving their arms in the air, cursing. Kanan pulled his shirt up over his nose and squinted, taking the opportunity they provided to bolt across the clearing to the other side where Hera was still being chased.

"Hera!" he shouted again, searching wildly through the russet dust to see her. He heard thundering booted footsteps and the sounds of a blaster before an echoing "over here!" that sounded like it came from everywhere all at once.

The Ghost's engines were whirring and the ship levitated over the land, further into the shipyard. It's left bulky wing scraped against another ship in the yard, sending an earsplitting metallic screech resonating through the dirt-filled air.

The missing parts of Hera's plan that had so far been lost to him started to click into place. His worries only doubled. A droid can't fly a ship that bulky on its own. And she can't draw all their fire from the engines of the ship without getting hit herself.

"Hera, hold on!" he yelled out, "I'm coming!"

But Kanan's feet didn't move from the ground. He stayed rigid and screwed his eyes shut. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he reached out to the Force.

It was hard, at first. It felt like the gears in his brain were rusted and the tethers that connected the ends of his nerves to the flow of the Force were stiff and tarnished. So he concentrated harder. Twisted up all the muscles in his face. Strained to feel it in the ruddy air around him. And he _knew_ it was there, he just had to _feel_ it.

Then, gradually, like a candle just starting to burn, he felt a warmth and a presence deep in the cavern of his mind. It pulsed; a life form. Hera.

The confidence mixed with fear started to radiate off of the flame with an ebb and flow that he knew was her rapid, panicked breathing. She was running. And she was running fast.

His eyelid twitched and his wrist flicked. He turned, slowly, eyes still closed as he felt it out around him. He searched for where the warmth felt the strongest.

It came to a very abrupt halt and then it held its breath, but the thrumming went on and he realized it was her heartbeat, not her breathing. He knew that she was hiding, somewhere, somewhere close and somewhere very much to his right.

Kanan's eyes flared open and he bolted, sprinting, in her direction. Through the thick clouds of red dust, a pile of crates became visible, and he felt the guards hunting her further to his left before he actually saw them. They hadn't spotted him or the crates, and if he was lucky, they still wouldn't for another minute.

The Ghost came closer to them, its mechanical droning swelling in the air as it flew low and slow over the ground. Kanan used to the booming sound as a cover as he darted for the crates and kicked one aside, revealing a very determined but fearful Hera backed against a wall with her blaster raised.

"Kanan!" she gasped, dropping her baster as her jaw went slack. "Where are the guards? Did they find you? Where's Chop, did he—"

She was cut off as he grabbed her elbow and hauled her to her feet. As soon as she straightened, the guards spotted them.

"Quickly, over there!" one shouted. "Don't let them get away!"

Hera and Kanan did not need another heads-up to send them sprinting away from the crates and toward the center of the clearing. Chopper had, much to Kanan's surprise, managed to keep the ship levitating and in the center of the yard without inflicting too much damage to itself. The other ships in the yard, however, were another story.

"Let's go!" Hera urged, and this time it was her turn to grab his hand and pull him towards the ship. He followed her without so much as glancing back at the guards behind them whose blasters were now sending lasers whizzing over their head.

The onramp to the Ghost lowered half-way, allowing Kanan and Hera to jump up and grab onto the edge to pull themselves up to the ship. Kanan shoved himself up and in with an explosive push of his arms. Hera grunted as she swung one leg up and hooked it around the edge, straining to pull herself up. Kanan didn't waste a second before reaching down and grabbing her under the arms to pull her up safely, and this time, she didn't object.

"Let's go Chop, let's go now!" Hera ordered as soon as they were stable, and they raced to the cockpit as the ship lifted further into the air. Kanan hopped onto the ladder and climbed swiftly into the nose turret gunner station.

The ship was already halfway out of the sky by the time he got in the seat, grabbed the controls, and spun around to face the skies. But there were no ships chasing them.

"What the…" he muttered, hesitantly releasing the controls. He stood back up and pressed his hands and his face against the glass and struggled to look down at the scene below.

The shipyard was a smoking, dusty wreck. All of the ships that had been there were either flattened, destroyed, or knocked to the ground, rendered unflyable. The guards were racing around the yard in a frenzy, frantic and barking orders and pointing to their ship in the sky. They were completely immobilized. And, Kanan realized quickly, this was the doing of the Ghost. Or rather, of Chopper.

The guards didn't find a single working ship until it was far too late. They tried to race up and chase them down, but the Ghost and her crew were long gone.

She breached the atmosphere of the planet. The simmering heat and the thick red dust of Kessel disappeared behind them.

The second they were in the black openness of space, they jumped.


	9. The Truth

Chapter 9: The Truth

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

Whispers of "the cause" had begun to circulate around Raada. Rumors of "the mechanics" living down the road from the local cantina and their "role" in the matter travelled lightly from ear to ear, from chin to chin.

After they told Vartan and the others about their little journey to the caves at Kolvin's house that night, things had started to spread.

Before Rex and Ahsoka knew it, they had become the so-called center of rebel operations.

With confidence, the farmers knocked on their door, smelling of wet earth and sun-soaked sweat, and injected themselves into Ahsoka and Rex's schedule. They would tell her what they could donate to the "refuge in the caves" and what droids or tools they would need fixed to do so. Then, without so much as a nod of confirmation, they would leave before Ahsoka could already explain that she had such and such resource, or she had too many droids to fix already.

It was an assertive type of authority that Ahsoka hadn't had to deal with since her time in the Order. She'd gotten so many promised donations for "the refuge" that she wasn't sure how she'd carry it all there on her own. And she had so many droids and tools piled up around the shop that she wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep for the next three days, either.

It was… a little exhilarating, if she were to be completely honest.

In the weeks that followed, she and Rex very quickly realized that Raada was in much deeper a consensus in regard to the Empire than they had thought: everyone wanted them gone.

As encouraging as their enthusiasm was, Ahsoka and Rex were both experienced military leaders and were fully aware that there was never such a thing as "gone". Just merely "further away" and with less executive control of the planet.

The end goal, as they had both made very clear to Vartan and the others, was not complete secession from the Empire. That was just unrealistic.

"Well, then what is?" Chenna had asked.

The aim was to become a mandate state of the Empire.

A territory, in simpler terms, that was legally under the control of the Empire but indirectly so, supervised perhaps by an Imperial provisional governor, but directly managed by someone from Raada itself, most likely someone selected by the Empire for their leadership experience.

Absolute sovereignty, Rex had stated firmly, would be unattainable.

"Why not?" Kolvin had asked, doubtful.

"Because if Raada declared and—hypothetically—did achieve independence, the Empire would simply leave the planet and form a blockade around it," Ahsoka had explained. "They'd cut Raada off from the rest of the Outer Rim and any other planets and let it choke itself dry. Eventually, the only choice the planet would have left would be to go back to the Empire and plead forgiveness."

Kolvin and the others quickly agreed to their plan after that.

Things moved quickly and the plan was beginning to take shape. It started out a bit chaotic. It could be said that, much to Rex's disapproval, Ahsoka did not sleep very much. But, as she argued, it was for a good reason. And she was right: Raada's freedom was a very, very good reason.

Every night—or very early morning, depending on how one looked at it—she would climb into her rack reeking of droid parts and greasing oil to catch a smidge of sleep. Then she'd be up and at it again by the crack of dawn.

Fixing things was methodical. Piecing together the gears and the bolts was a miracle of mechanics that protected her like a spell.

Rex was busy, too. He mostly worked on the broken blasters and old, rickety weapons that the townspeople had stormed in and declared they needed fixed "in case there be a lil' skirmish".

That had been… a little concerning.

For a while, they worried that one overly-eager person would try to take matters into their own hands. But after speaking with Vartan, he assured them that the townspeople had been very clearly warned to adhere to the plan in place, and that no such "skirmish" would occur unless indicated to.

In between fixing blaster pistols and slugthrowers, Rex would somehow manage to cook up a bit of patuu rice or a bowl of rootleaf stew to keep them fueled and running. He would have to place it down in Ahsoka's lap and physically remove the tool she was using from her hand before she would blink back to reality and realize what was going on and that food was a necessary form of sustenance.

"But it's for a good cause," she would remind him.

Rex would only give her a dubious look before sighing and digging in himself.

One night, during one such meal, Ahsoka was contemplating how to get everything they'd been brought to the caves. There were tons of ration packs, tools, and weapons they'd been given, all of which were too heavy and too many to carry in a backpack across the fields.

Her nose crinkled and her eyebrows knitted together as she sat, deep in thought, sipping at the soup Rex had made that night (morning?).

Rex stared at her. Then he sighed and set down his spoon.

"I can hear the gears in your brain spinning at a thousand klicks an hour."

And the floodgates were opened.

"I just don't see how we can carry all of the resources we've obtained in a realistic time frame," Ahsoka blurted. "The tools, for one, are cumbersome and don't fit well into any bags, so we'd have to make multiple—oh, I don't know, maybe three or four—trips for those. And the ration packs, even though they're small, there's just so many of them that we'd have to take at least seven for those alone." She shovelled in another spoonful of soup and swallowed. "And the weapons! Don't even get me started on the weapons. They're big, they're bulky, and they're highly illegal. There is no way either of us could carry a bunch of weapons across the farming fields without some storm trooper noticing and reporting us for suspicious activity. And if _we_ got arrested, they'd search the shop, and they'd probably find the caves, too. And _then_ where would we be?"

Rex stared at her, simultaneously trying to process everything she said while also looking for a way to get her to breathe in between her sentences.

"Well," he started.

"And I'm not sure the main cave that we chose is big enough for all of this stuff, let alone to shove in all of the townspeople if things went wrong. We'll probably have to go back out there sometime soon, maybe tomorrow morning, and check through the others on the sides of it, as well. The one may be a bit tight, but the other has potential. They might even all connect eventually, deeper in. We could figure out a lighting system for the passages so that—"

"Ahsoka."

"—we could have backup caves to hide in if the first one gets found out. In fact, we should also check to see if there's another exit. I'm sure there is one somewhere, caves are like that. We'll have to make sure it's clear, because if there is an emergency, people will be panicked and they'll be moving fast, so we need to make sure nothing's hanging down or poking up that will smack them in the head or ram them in the gut. I think—"

"Ahsoka," Rex said again, this time more firmly.

For the first time, she noticed he was trying to get her attention. "Oh. Yes?"

He breathed out a little in relief and he took another bite of his soup. "I think that first, before all of this, you need to hit the rack and get some shut-eye."

Ahsoka blinked.

"We're not even on the same page," she realized.

"No, we're not."

He stood up and took the empty bowl from her hand that she hadn't even realized she'd finished. He sloshed in another ladle-full of soup and handed it back to her. Reluctantly, she accepted.

"If any of this is going to work at all, we need to be on top of our game," Rex said calmly, getting a second helping for himself. "Being fully rested will make all the difference in our efficiency."

"But we're trained to go three days without sleep in the field," she argued.

"In the field, yes. But this isn't the field. There's no adrenaline, no immediate danger. It's not the same."

Ahsoka couldn't argue that, and she knew it. She resentfully accepted her loss and resigned to silently eating her soup.

The quiet continued until Rex drained the last drops of his soup and got to his feet. He set the empty bowl next to the pot. "I'm gonna hit the 'fresher," he said, walking over to the tiny room on the side of the shop. He grabbed the towel off the hook on the back of the door and glanced back at her. "You should, too."

Ahsoka frowned. "Are you saying I smell bad?"

Rex ducked into the 'fresher without another word and closed the door behind him, but she was pretty sure she caught the edge of a smirk as he disappeared.

"Half-witted dipstick," she muttered. She heard the water turn on and the rings on the shower curtain tug close, then glanced herself over once.

Sticky, black droid oil stained her fingers and was smeared across her arms. Splotches of it had somehow gotten onto her legs, clothes, and even parts of her lekku.

So, maybe Ahsoka wasn't at her freshest. But it had only been… what, a day, three days, since her last shower?

She reached up to feel her face and felt something sticky on her cheek.

…Maybe it was time for a quick rinse.

Rex barely had time to wrap his towel around his waist before Ahsoka barged in after hearing the water shut off. Glowering, she ignored his vividly-red face and snatched her towel off the wall, tossing it over the shower rod and grumbling to herself.

"' _Hit the fresher'_ , huh?" she muttered, hopping on one foot as she struggled to pull off her boot, "well maybe you should smell yourself first."

"I did," Rex objected, flustered. He gripped his shaving razor and strained to look over her montrals at his reflection in the crooked mirror on the wall. "That's why I decided to shower."

"Whatever," she growled, stepping into the crude shower and yanking the curtains closed. She proceeded to tug off her clothes and throw them over the rod next to her towel. The water switched on a moment later.

Rex only sighed, shook himself, and leaned in closer to the mirror as he started to shave.

Ahsoka let the water rain down over her head, enjoying the feeling of the dirt running off her skin and dribbling into the drain below. She used her hands to rub the back of her neck and wash her arms and legs. Clean felt good.

"You're steaming up the mirror."

"Not my problem."

She worked to remove the dirt from the crook of her knees and under her fingernails. She used her thumbs to rub at the dips of her collarbone and under her jaw.

Rex finished up his shave, and she was left alone. She started to hum a made-up tune to herself, getting lost in the methodical process of bathing. She wanted every speck of dirt and grime gone. She rubbed at her face and her thighs and her shoulders. She used her nails to dig out the dirt in the creases of her palms and in between her toes.

She finished up her shower, switched off the water, and gave herself a quick look-over in the mirror to make sure she hadn't missed any dirt before moving on. Towel-dried off, she changed into the only other set of clothes she had. Her skin felt soft and smooth and new against the rough, scratchy cotton of the clothes. The oversized tunic draped loosely across her shoulders and the baggy trousers were a little too short to be called anything but capris. They were much better suited for sleepwear rather than working, but she could make do.

Rex had turned off the light, leaving the room swathed in darkness. The stars outside were the only source of light, but it was pale and grey, filtering in from the window like silk. Ahsoka stepped up to the dusty glass panes and looked out. The black night of the sky was already threatening to give way to a rosy dawn. She clutched at her arms and her mouth formed a line.

"Go to sleep, 'Soka," she heard Rex mumble sleepily from the bottom rack on the other side of the room. "I know what you're thinking, and it's not worth staying up."

"But I need to start moving the ration packs over to the caves. And I still haven't finished the droid I'm working on," she protested.

But weighted exhaustion was pulling at the back of her eyelids even as she spoke. Outside, the stars were beginning to fade.

"Go to sleep." Rex shifted in his rack and rolled over.

Ahsoka only hesitated for one more moment before giving in. Sighing, she crossed the room and climbed into her rack.

"Whatever we do, we can't sleep in. We have things to do."

Rex let out a drowsy grumble. "Do we really need to be up at dawn every day?"

"Don't be asinine. Of course we do."

Upon hearing no reply, she stretched and tugged the sheet over her shoulders. Her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes.

Then she was dead to the world.

The warm, nutty aroma of freshly-brewing caf hit Ahsoka's nose and drew her eyes to flutter open. She blinked, slowly and sleepily, then yawned.

Drowsily, she sat up and clambered down out of her rack, stretching her arms high above her head. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands and smiled at Rex, who stood by the caf maker on the counter. Then she made her way back to the window and stared out, hugging herself.

"Good morning," Rex said.

"Mhm, morning," Ahsoka murmured, still trying to wake herself up. "…morning," she said again, a bit quieter.

Outside the window, the sky was blue and the sun burned high in the sky, a bit past noon. It was not the pale, hazy-yellow rays of sunlight and the dew-heavy mist of morning she expected.

She rubbed her thumbs back and forth against her clean arms, processing. "Morning…"

"I've got a fresh pot on," Rex told her. "But we're almost out of grounds, so we'll need to swing by the general store today."

Ahsoka didn't answer. She was still staring out the window, squinting at the sun.

Then realization dawned on her.

"It's so late!" she gasped, whirling around and darting across the room. She pulled her boots out of the fresher and struggled to tug them on, moving as fast as she could. "I slept too long!"

As soon as her boots were on and fastened, she started to dig around the room for her toolbox. She had a client who had needed his speeder fixed by the end of the day, a droid that still wasn't working, multiple tools to adjust and enhance, _and_ an absolutely copious amount of supplies that she _still_ hadn't figured out how to get to the caves!

"Why did you let me sleep so long?!" she blurted, finding the toolbox and dragging it out from underneath the table. She hastily started to grab her tools scattered around the shop and throw them into the box.

"Because you needed it," Rex said simply, pouring a cup of caf then walking over to her. He stopped her, took the toolbox out of her hand, and replaced it with the steaming caf.

Ahsoka blinked back at him, confused.

"Plus, the rings under your eyes were getting darker than the robes of Palpatine himself," he added.

He didn't mention that there were also still wrinkle marks pressed onto her cheek from laying on the sheets, deciding he'd already made his point and there was no need to embarrass her further. Even if it was a bit charming.

"Don't say that name," she scowled, faking a gag. "I don't need to hear that name. I'm already losing my appetite as it is. I don't need to hear that gross name."

Rex chuckled, clearing off the table—much to her disdain—and pulling out her chair before taking a seat for himself. "The cause can miss you for one day, Ahsoka. Everyone will get along fine."

"But it can't miss Ashla," she argued, sitting down anyway.

"Good thing you're not her," he hummed, taking a deep sip. He paused, thoughtful, then added, "just take the rest of the day to be your true self, who you really are. And that's not Ashla the Mechanic."

"Commander Tano is dead, Rex," she murmured. A bitter resentment flickered in her tone, brief but unmissable. "Just like everyone else."

She stared down at her murky reflection in the swirling, dark caf in her hands. It was an image she didn't like to see.

"Just Ahsoka, then."

She looked up at him in surprise. His expression was gentle and his gaze full of tenderness, sincerity. Of a kind of care that she found hard to find in the galaxy these days. A care that made her feel curled up and safe.

She tried to think about what that meant, her name: in the past and the present and the future. The child on Shili who could move beetles and pebbles with her mind. The youngling in the Temple who advanced far too quickly for her age. The padawan of Anakin Skywalker who had a smart-mouth and an attitude chock-full of sass that put her Master's to the test. The Jedi who had been tried and found guilty for the Temple bombing, then released at the last second, only to throw her life away and leave.

Who gave up when things got too hard. Who walked away from the Order. Who would never be a Jedi Knight.

But was that still her? Had she lost Ahsoka Tano, LadyTano? What was she left with?

Rex gazed at her, patient and knowing and willing. He emanated warmth and understanding. And when their eyes met, she knew he'd already given her the answer.

"Just Ahsoka?" she breathed out, and the question felt like a desperate plea.

He nodded slowly, cocking his head a little to the side, the corners of his mouth crooking up in a small, fond smile. "Just Ahsoka."

With surprisingly less effort than she thought it would take, Ahsoka gave in.

Rex reached across the table and took her hand in his. He gave it a squeeze.

Heartbeat tingling, she smiled in return.


	10. The Lie

Chapter 10: The Lie

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

  
The Ghost was silent. Fitting for its name, but it was the lack of a droid's snarky beeps and a little lady's cheerful squealing that threw Kanan off the most. It was as if the air was dead. The ship was in limbo.

Kanan descended the ladder from the gunner station and walked onto the bridge. Chopper was working silently on the ship, utility arm extended as he ran the diagnostics. Hera sat in her seat, completely still, gaze held to the blue and white streaks of light painted around the ship as they flew through hyperspace.

"Hey," he said, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

She startled and turned to face him. "Oh, hey." Then she looked back to the stars.

Kanan frowned slightly. He did not like the dejected look she had about her. He walked over and crossed his arms over the back of her chair, leaning on it and looking over her shoulder.

"Well, we made it out alive," he said, going for positivity.

"Yes." She looked shyly up at him from where he hovered very close to her. "I suppose we did."

More silence.

The air felt static, awkward. Even Chopper didn't make his usual annoying ruckus.

"Alright," Hera said in a sigh. She smacked her legs with her palms and rose to her feet, headed out the hatch. "I'm gonna see if there's anything that I can turn into dinner," she explained, then paused. "Or, breakfast. I don't know." Then she was gone.

Kanan stared quietly after her, not sure what to do.

Chopper beeped contemplatively to himself, deep in thought from where he worked at the control panel.

"Shoot," Kanan mumbled.

Chopper let out a low whirr that said something like "and then there were two."

But he didn't want there to be two, he thought. At least, not between him and the astromech. He wanted to get to know _Hera_. Not the annoying little scrap pile whose hobby was threatening him with a taser.

Kanan found Hera in the ship's small storage room. She was sitting on the floor, setting up a portable gas-lit stove that looked a little worse for wear. A sack of dry patuu rice and a can of bothan beans had been pulled out of a storage bin and set next to the stove.

"I hope you like staple starches," she said as he walked in, her attention glued to the stove, "'cause that's all we're getting tonight." She chewed her cheek in concentration as she tried to get the sparker to ignite the stove.

"Sounds good." He went to try and help her with the stove, but she shrugged his reaching hand away. She got it a moment later.

Kanan watched as she filled the pot with water from a jug and placed it on the lit stove. She grabbed the bag of rice and tried to pull it apart with her hands. It was one of those difficult ones where you had to find a particular string to tug and it would all fall loose, but if you tried to open it any other way, it only got tighter and more impossible.

She stopped trying to pull it apart and tried to pinch and rip it at one corner, but to no avail.

Kanan watched her struggle for a minute longer before it got to be too sad to watch. He sat down on the floor next to her. "Need help?"

"I've almost got it."

She then tried to pluck a string that looked looser than the others, but again was unsuccessful.

"You sure?"

"Yes," she snapped. The frustrated crinkles on her forehead deepened.

"Okay, okay," he said, surrendering and backing off. He resigned to watching her continue to struggle.

It was, truly, an arduous four minutes.

Alright, Kanan thought, this was really getting to be too much. "Hera…"

Hera looked up at him dismally before giving in. "Fine," she relented, handing the sack of rice towards him. "You try."

Kanan accepted it and got to work. He held the corner of it with his teeth and started to pick at it with his fingers, looking for the right thread to pull. He glanced between Hera and the sack. She was sitting cross-legged and hunched over, looking away.

"Is everyfing alrighth?" he asked around the sack of rice. He gave her a hesitant look. "Hafe I done somefing wrong?"

"No," she replied, shifting uneasily, and Kanan wasn't sure which question she was answering. Her voice waned, and it sounded like she was going to continue, but she didn't.

Kanan's jaw was starting to ache from being clenched around the sack. His fingernails were a bit too short to try and pluck at the string, but he'd finally found the right one. Noticing his struggle, Hera reached over and used her nimble fingers to yank the taught string out of place while Kanan continued to hold it.

"I guess… I don't know. The mission didn't work out right. It didn't succeed. Not as it was supposed to," she explained as she worked on the string. She finally managed to snag the thread under her nail and pull on it wide enough to hook her index finger around it. With a few tugs, it came loose, and the sack opened up.

"What do you mean?" Kanan asked, releasing the sack and handing it back to her. "From what I remember, we made it out alive, which had seemed pretty unlikely at more than one point. I'd consider that a success."

Hera shrugged, measuring out a bowl-full of rice and setting it next to the stove as she waited for the water to boil. "I guess. We just… we didn't get the Wookies. They're still back there, dying in the mines. We didn't save them."

Kanan went quiet, a little stunned.

He looked Hera over. She'd rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. She had a faraway look about her that seemed like she was staring at the stove but was probably seeing something else. Regret, guilt, and grief for something that she wasn't even responsible for in the first place trickled off of her like dew on a leaf, heavy and sodden, and when it fell to the floor, it splashed and scattered into droplets, catching on Kanan's clothes and seeping through to his soul.

And not for the first time, he realized that despite her snippy remarks and the everyday sass that he was starting to get used to, her heart was so much bigger than herself.

Hera hurt for others she had never even met. She blamed herself for when she did nothing to help them. And she berated herself for when she failed a mission that no one had charged her with but herself.

She loved, and she cared, and she cared _hard_. Harder than anyone was asked to or even meant to.

And not for the last time, he realized that Hera, this sparky little lady that he was still getting to know, was a much better person than himself.

A sizzling sound hissed through the air. Hera jumped where she sat and whirled towards the pot, snapping Kanan back to reality.

"Oh shoot, the water!"

The water was boiling up and out of the pot, steaming and bubbling as it spilled out onto the floor. Hera frantically reached for it with outstretched hands.

"Hera, wait! It's still—"

He was cut off by a high-pitched yelp that echoed through the ship and the clang of a pot clattering to the floor, spilling the water everywhere.

"…hot," he finished, but the damage was already done. Hera sat back clumsily, mouth clamped and eyes screwed shut. She nursed her hands and tucked them close to her chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He felt stupid the moment the question slipped out of his mouth.

"Yes," she managed to say, but then groaned and hunched over more. "…No."

With a sympathetic smile, he moved over to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let me see."

Reluctantly, Hera obliged, and embarrasedly offered her hands. Kanan took them into his own with efforted delicacy and looked them over. The sage-green skin was already turning red, but there was no sign of white blisters forming yet. He touched her palm gently with the pad of his thumb, and she winced back.

Kanan sat back up, his hands still in hers, and met Hera's nervous gaze.

"You'll be alright. It's not too bad, from what I can tell," he said reassuringly. He gestured to her palm. "It's not blistering yet, which means it didn't burn too deep. We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Do you have any medkits?"

Hera nodded and gestured with her head towards one of the storage bins. Seeing where she pointed, Kanan released her hands and went to open the bin. As she'd said, there was a small red and white bag. Unzipping it, he quickly found what he was looking for: a coolant antibacterial gel and some sterilized gauze wrappings.

"Once we wrap them up, you'll be good as new and ready to fly in no time," he said, trying to cheer her up.

It worked a little and Hera smiled slightly.

"I feel like a child," she said sheepishly.

"Well…" Kanan faltered, but he smirked teasingly to let her know he was kidding. She rolled her eyes in return.

He took her hands in his again and undid the cap on the antibacterial gel, applying it generously to her palms as gently as he could. He did everything he'd seen their field medic Soot do on the battlefield whenever the boys had gotten burns from blaster shots that just got too close. At least, he did it to the best he could remember.

Hera watched as he worked, though a bit distractedly. Her eyes started to wander and her shoulders started to droop again.

"My father always told me I was too much of a bundle of nerves to be a rebel," she said after a while, but Kanan wasn't sure it was too him. Her gaze was drifting again. "'Shape up, Hera. Get control of yourself, Hera. Don't wear your emotions on your sleeve, Hera,'" she went on, straightening her back, tucking her chin in, and deepening her voice to mimic her father. Then her shoulders sagged again. "It got pretty tiring."

"Sometimes, our parents don't always know what's best for us," Kanan began slowly, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. Hera flinched as though he'd drawn her back from whatever bad memory she'd been lost in. "Sometimes, they only know what's best for themselves, but… not everyone thinks the same way."

He felt her staring at him as he worked. His cheeks felt a little warm and he felt a tad embarrassed, which just wasn't like him at all, but he kept his eyes on his work and tried to continue talking. He wasn't quite sure where these deep and emotional words were coming from, but he just went with it.

"But maybe he was right. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for this type of stuff."

Kanan pinched his brows together. He steadily wrapped the gauze between her thumb and forefinger. "I think you're a good rebel, even if it doesn't work out all the time. You've helped more people than you probably realize," he paused, then added quietly, "including me."

Hera eyes grew wide, stunned. "Kanan, I…" she started. But her words faded and she fell silent again.

Kanan finished the last wrapping and tied it off, not as neatly as he'd hoped, but it was still somewhat secure. When it was done, however, he found himself not wanting to let go of her hands. They were soft, but still calloused from a childhood of a war and struggle, and he held them lightly. He found his thumb faintly ghosting over her knuckles.

Like he had back in the shipyard, he softly felt the thrum of her heartbeat through the Force, warm and beating and very much alive. This time, however, instead of panicked and thudding, it was fluttering, light, and trembling slightly, like her hands.

Kanan realized with a start the tension of the situation and quickly released her hands. When he looked up awkwardly, Hera was gazing at him, flustered and a little in wonder. A rose-color tinted the green of her cheeks.

"I think I know just what you need," Kanan said after a moment, desperate to fill the silence. He stood up and stepped over the dropped pot and the puddle of spilled water, headed towards the top left cupboard.

"Hey," Hera objected, "you're not supposed to go in there. That's Rule Number Two!"

"Actually, it was Rule Number One," he corrected, ignoring her and opening the cupboard. He opened a box inside it and quickly found what he was looking for: Rylothan dark chocolate.

Taking an untouched bar and closing the cupboard, he went and sat back down next to Hera and handed the rich and aromatic treat to her. Begrudgingly, she snatched from him and took a small bite, but any irritation in her face melted away as it hit her tongue.

"Not fair," she mumbled grumpily around a mouthful of chocolate as she took her second bite. Kanan only offered a cheeky smile in return.

He set to work about re-heating some more water and making dinner while Hera ate her chocolate with bandaged hands and watched. This time, he managed to get it to a boil without getting distracted and letting it spill over. He dumped in the bowl of dry rice and beans and covered the pot to let it steam up.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Hera said as he leaned back on his elbows to wait for the rice to cook. "It's a whole mess that I've dragged you into. Both the thing with the Pykes _and_ just having to deal with me."

"That's not entirely true," Kanan reasoned, flashing a teasing smirk. "I've only _almost_ died two or three times."

"Oh, shut it," she groaned, but he could see the smile hiding behind the chocolate bar. "You know what I mean."

Kanan chuckled, and the room fell quiet again.

"I've been thinking," Hera started again after a bit, "that… well, I should have told you about my mess with the Pykes to start with. It was a big risk that you didn't know you were getting yourself into, and I should have been honest about it."

Kanan shook his head. "I hardly thought that joining a rebel who'd just crashed on Lothal was going to be a business free of danger. I knew there were bound to be risks," he objected.

"I know, I know, but my point is," she went on, taking another bite of chocolate, "that we should be honest with each other. If this—" she gestured with her wrapped-up hand to the space between them, and Kanan had no idea what that meant, but decided that was a topic of discussion to be addressed later— "is going to work out at all, we need to tell each other the truth, always. We can't work together if we don't trust each other. We have to be honest."

Kanan felt himself go still as he grasped at the meaning and the weight of her words: the truth, honesty, and trust.

He'd already told her he was from Coruscant, that he hadn't lived on Lothal for too long, and that he wanted to help. And all of that was true. He wasn't being dishonest, and that's what she was asking.

But he still wasn't being honest.

The history of his life as a padawan was also the history of the downfall of the Jedi Order. It was a narrative of the archaic past that had not even passed yet; the remnants of its ruin still trickled through the backbones of the societies embedded in the galaxy. The spilled blood of his Masters, of padawans, and younglings acted as the foundation for the rise of the Empire, seeping through the cracks in the tyrannical façade of the Sith. His past, and therefore his future, was far from over. For every moment that he breathed, it was one more moment that he defied the Empire and all that it stood for, one more moment of putting his life on the line, one more moment of waiting for whatever death he deserved to snatch him when he wasn't looking.

It was a secret that needed to be kept. For his safety, and for Hera's. The lie that he was living was one that he would have to die with, especially if he, or anyone he cared for in the slightest, were to survive.

"Kanan," Hera said quietly, and he realized that he had been silent for too long. She was gazing at him with an olive solemnity to her eyes that he found beautifully striking and equally as convicting. She was waiting for his answer.

And letting the shame run like water down his back, he gave her one. He mustered the utmost amount of sincerity that he could scrape up from within himself, then breathed in, breathed out, and swallowed the lie.

But words failed him, as if his own tongue forbid him to betray her. All he could do was give a weak nod of his head.

And being the intrinsically good person that she was, Hera trusted him. She smiled once, and much to his shame and guilt-drenched disbelief, placed her hand on his and squeezed it tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a huge thank you all. Your words always add a little more sunshine to my day and are oh-so encouraging! I find myself smiling like a fool or cackling to myself every time I read your comments. Your feedback also means a lot as a writer-- I'm always looking to improve!  
> So, thank you for your words and support, friends! 
> 
> Anyway, back to Dissent. Hera is too good for this world (galaxy?), and hopefully, Kanan figures out what a girl is sometime soon. Enjoy the rest of the chaotically wild ride that is this story. I know Rex isn't. But I am! :)


	11. The Spark

Chapter 11: The Spark

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

In the days following Ahsoka's well-deserved day off, things began to speed up quickly. Very quickly. At least, much more quickly than Rex and Ahsoka had originally expected.

But they were continuing to find out that Raada, with her small-town, toothy-grinned farmers, was full of surprises.

Everyone became involved; everyone had a helping hand in the cause one way or another. Some saved up ration packs, others brought weapons, and others donated credits for more weapons. Everyone did something and no one was left out. A 'team effort', as Kolvin would put it.

In terms of the caves, only Ahsoka, Rex, and occasionally Vartan or another more trusted member of the group would go there. They still wanted to keep it on the low-down and a mass movement of farmers to the hills outside town wouldn't do well for any of that.

The two of them had been very busy. Too busy. The effort had only tripled the amount of weapons, tools, and other things they had to repair or upgrade, and between working their "normal" job as mechanics, they were still getting on setting up the refuge in the caves and trying to figure out the fine details of the cause.

Every Friday night, the crew would meet for their regular dinner and a game a crokin at the cantina, but as soon as the last round had been played, they'd say their goodbyes and disperse. Precisely one hour later, under the cover of deep night, they would meet again at Kolvin's house, along with some other townspeople, and discuss the plan and how to move forward.

Ahsoka and Rex would be there the whole night, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, talking to every person who wanted to get involved and trying to figure out how.

They would make charts and take inventory of their resources and a table that listed whether they would be stored in the caves or elsewhere. They would bend over the map spread out on Kolvin's mother's dinged-up dining table, marking the positions of the troops keeping guard and the routes of their movement from place to place. They would discuss what strategies would be best to use against the Imperials, like should they make it gradual, unnoticeable at first? Or should they come out with guns blazing? Or should they protest peacefully first, make a list of demands?

"That's absurd," Ahsoka had said immediately.

Chenna, the pacifistic creator of the idea, staunchly stood her ground in reply. "Why?"

"The Empire won't bother with 'demands'. They'll opt for using their blasters instead," Rex had answered first, echoing her thoughts.

"Which is why we should come at them with full force in the first place!" Kolvin threw in, seizing the opportunity.

Ahsoka pinched the bridge of her nose while Vartan, Chenna, and Rex gave him shriveling glares.

"They're worse than a shiny in bleach-white armor," Rex had grumbled to her under his breath. She gave him a sympathetic pat on the knee.

As the nights drew on, they would grow exhausted, knowing full well there was still much to do. Rex would hover a bit closer to Ahsoka. He'd linger beside or behind her, always standing with her, sometimes speaking with her and the townspeople, other times carrying the conversation for her. It was his way of telling her he'd be her shield, if she needed it.

And she found that, far too often, she did.

He'd keep his shoulder brushing against hers and his forearm against her elbow, or he'd place a subtle hand on the small of her back and keep his thumb feather-light against the base of her spine. He was always near her, as if he needed reassurance that she was still there. As if he would've been lost without touching her.

It was as though they could muster up whatever little strength they had left from each other's presence. It felt like the energy seeped between them like cold morning dew on thin twine where they touched.

Ahsoka had finally found a way to move the abundance of resources gathered by the townspeople to the caves. Once again, she had underestimated the eagerness and capabilities of the people of Raada, and the next morning, they showed up at her door with a tugging speeder with a cart attached.

"It's perfect," Ahsoka had said, and she was right. The cart was large enough to shorten the number of trips she needed to make by a half but small enough that it didn't stand out too much.

"Oh yah, ole' Beth is a rickety gal, but a fast one ta be sure," said one farmer.

"'Beth'?" Rex had asked.

"The tuggin' speeder," the farmer explained. His tone was puzzled, indicating it was an obvious fact, that Rex merely should've been paying more attention and was being dull for asking.

"We usually use'er ta carry out the barrels of seed right after the harvest," said another. "She's good fer that type uh' stuff."

"Ole' Beth will take care a ya good, Ashla. Dontcha worry."

And they had been right. 'Beth' took care of them just fine. She did a perfectly good job of tugging the supplies to and from the shop and the caves, only almost breaking down three times. But with a quick kick of Rex's steel-toed boot, she was up and running again without any issues.

That problem had been solved. Now, however, Ahsoka had to figure out the next one.

…Which would be the storm trooper currently questioning her, Beth, and their route across the farming fields.

"Ma'am, no farmer is allowed to go out past the farmlands during working hours," the trooper declared, approaching her and coming to a halt.

"Well, I'm not a farmer," she objected, crossing her arms. He must've seen her passing from his post on the edge of the farmlands. She forced down the lick of panic that went shooting into her throat.

"Then let me correct myself," he countered. " _No one_ is allowed past the farmlands during work hours. Besides, if you're not a farmer, what are you doing out here, anyway?"

Ahsoka scrutinized the trooper, trying to squint past the black shield over his eyes. His white armor was covered in dust but didn't have any dings or dents.

He was a rookie. She could work with that.

"I'm surveilling the land for parts," she said casually, putting on her most convincing face. "I'm a mechanic, you see, and I was told there used to be an old junkyard out here, somewhere."

"I don't know of any junkyard."

"Well, you're new here, aren't you?"

The trooper made a _hrumph_ noise under his helmet but let her continue.

"Since you all came in here and started limiting imports and whatnot, I've had a lot less to work with," she went on, shaking her head meaningfully. "And if I have no parts, I can't fix the farmer's tools. And with no tools, the farmers can't farm." She threw her arms up in a shrug, palms outward. "See what I'm dealing with here? Believe me, if I had an option other than wandering around the planet picking up rusted scraps, I'd take it in a fynock's heartbeat."

The trooper stayed quiet, no doubt considering her argument and battling between taking her word for it or following protocol. He strained to look past Ahsoka at the speeder.

"What's in the tugging cart?"

Ahsoka stayed rigid, using her body to deny him visual. She gave him a blank look. "I'm sorry, the what?"

"The cart. What's in it?"

"Oh. Oh, you mean Beth."

"Beth," he deadpanned.

"The name of the tugging cart. Obviously."

The trooper didn't budge. He still held his standard-issue blaster rifle tight in his hands. And he still wasn't taking her word for it.

"I'm just going to inspect the cart. If all is fine, you can be on your way," he said, using an armored shoulder to push past her. His free hand started to reach for the tarp draped over the seriously-illegal amount of weapons and ration packs in the cart.

"Wait!" Ahsoka blurted, throwing herself between the trooper and the cart. She heard the plastoid around his gloves clench as he tightened the grip on his blaster.

"Move aside, ma'am. I need to—"

"You will leave me be and return to your post."

She waved a hand across his face and kept her voice even, weighted with the tug of the Force behind her words. The panic was really starting to prick under her skin now.

The trooper stopped, muddled.

"I… will let you be and… return to my post," he repeated, voice in a daze.

Ahsoka held back a burning sigh of relief as the trooper's posture slackened slightly. She raised her hand once more. "And you will leave this encounter out of your reports."

"And I will leave this encounter out of my reports," he echoed, a bit more firmly this time. Then he turned around and stalked off like a droid, back towards his post.

Ahsoka waited until he was much farther away before climbing back on her speeder and twisting the key in the ignition. She had to stop to let out a shaky breath before stepping on the gas. The adrenaline of using the Force and the terror of almost losing it all in one slip up surged through her. She stared very hard at the caves ahead to stop herself from getting lightheaded.

She was fine. She was alright. The trooper was gone, and she was safe. The cause had not been found out.

When she got to the caves, Vartan was already there with Hestu, the Bothan owner of the general store who had also gotten involved. The two of them—similar in age, although Hestu was a bit more plump—were busy hammering shelves into the stone walls of the cavern to store the ration packs, and by the look of it, they'd already finished installing racks for the weapons she'd just brought.

"Good day," Vartan grunted, swinging the hammer down on the shelf that Hestu was holding in place. "Got more goods?"

"Of course," Ahsoka nodded, taking the tarp off the cart and starting to unload it. "The crew not working today?"

"They are, they are. Kolvin's just leading them for the rest of the shift. Decided I'd better come up here for the last half of the day and help Hestu out."

"Kolvin, huh?" she joked, "I'm sure Banji is thrilled about that."

Vartan only sighed while Hestu let out a jolly chuckle.

Ahsoka debated whether or not to tell him about the storm trooper incident.

It probably couldn't hurt, as long as she left out the whole Jedi mind-trick part.

Vartan nodded slowly as she spoke, pinching his beard between his thumb and forefinger in a way that was a little too much like Master Kenobi for Ahsoka's liking.

"I see," he said when she finished, pensive. "We must be careful, then. Perhaps we should only come to the caves at night."

"That could be a possibility," she agreed, setting down a box of ration packs next to the shelves.

"But wouldn't it be more suspicious if we went out to the fields at night?" Hestu put in. "If we got caught, there'd be no believable excuse to tell to get out of that pickle."

Ahsoka wanted to argue that there was no believable excuse at _any_ time of day, but as far as they knew, her little lie about collecting spare parts from a nearby junkyard had passed, so she kept her mouth shut on that.

"That's true," Vartan conceded, "but it seems as though it may be the best option we have. No one ever said that insurgency was easy."

A huff of agreement escaped Ahsoka's lips as she listened, still unloading the crates. "I'll talk about it with Rex when I get back. He'll probably agree that nighttime would be best. We probably should have been doing it then at the start."

Together, the three of them unloaded the rest of the cart, which surprisingly was able to fit down the narrow passages of the cave, and organized them on the newly-built racks and shelves. When they were finished, Ahsoka stood with her hands on her hips and took in her surroundings.

"It's coming together," she murmured. Hestu and Vartan grunted and puffed their agreement.

They left the caves, and when they reached the entrance, Hestu got on his speeder and waved before heading out. Ahsoka made sure the cart was still hitched securely to Beth before climbing on and preparing to leave.

"Ashla," Vartan said as she mounted, "my wife is having the crew over for dinner tonight, after sun-down. We wanted to invite you and Rex. If you want to come."

"Oh," Ahsoka started, caught off guard. She thought of the enormous stacks of tools and the gargantuan array of droids that still needed to be fixed. Dinner was a no-can-do. But she could at least still be polite. "We'll uh, we'll try to make it."

"Good, good," he hummed. "My wife loves to cook, and she loves to cook for others even more. She'll be very pleased."

Great, Ahsoka thought. Now they _had_ to go. She couldn't disappoint a sweet old lady. That would just be mean.

"Kolvin, Hestu, and the girls will be there, as well," he told her, starting to walk down and away from her and the caves. "We look forward to having you."

"Do you need a ride?" Ahsoka called after him.

The older man just waved her off, not bothering to turn around. "I enjoy the stroll."

"If you say so," Ahsoka shrugged. Then she knocked back the kickstand and was off, silently contemplating how to face the third problem of her day: convincing Rex to go to dinner.

Vartan's wife, a busty Nautolan named Luda, was indeed one of the most sweet, soft-hearted older ladies that Ahsoka had ever met, which was exactly what she expected from someone married to the wise and stoic Vartan.

She also had what Rex liked to call "suffocating hospitality". Her excruciatingly tight hugs were insufferable and her affectionate cheek-pinches even more so. The largest feature of their humble home was the dining room table, with more seats available than she would ever have guests, though Ahsoka was sure Luda would stuff the entire town of Raada into the house if she could.

"This is… pleasant," Rex said slowly, a few minutes after he and Ahsoka had walked in. They'd already been greeted by a very rambunctious Banji and a big, smothering hug from Luda, who had basically already claimed Rex and Ahsoka her own children, just like the rest of the crew.

"Oh, you two dears have just done so much for our little crew," she said dotingly, leaning back from the hug, numerous purple headtails draped heavily over her shoulders, but still keeping her arms around Ahsoka. Then she went in to give Rex and equally large embrace. Ahsoka had to bite back a laugh when he spluttered for air and went redder than Dooku's lightsaber at sunset.

"My Vartan has told me all about you two. I'm just _so_ glad you could make it for dinner," she cooed, releasing Rex and pinching his cheek as he struggled to catch his breath. Ahsoka couldn't stop a full-blown grin this time. "I hope you're hungry, 'cause I've made my special spicy kod'yok meatballs and homemade Anselm sauce," she paused, pursing her lips, "though, I sorta had to substitute the kod'yok meat with chicken since we don't get that stuff anymore, but never mind that. It's all in the sauce, so it'll taste the same It was my great-great-great grandmother's aunt's cousin's mother's recipe, and everyone who tries it just can't get enough!"

They mingled for a bit, talking with everyone and trying to have a pleasant time, for once not talking about the caves and the cause. Kolvin and Chenna chatted about the day's work in the fields and in the shop. Vartan and Hestu held each other in sturdy conversation. Hedala and Banji played with the old toys that Luda had kept in a box just for the girls.

"I never had any children of my own," Luda had explained when she noticed Ahsoka watching the girls, "so these sweet little angels became my own. Aren't they just the cutest?"

Ahsoka nodded, smiling slightly. They watched as Banji plopped down on her knees next to Hedala and started to help her set up a bunch of ragdolls and wooden playthings. With an adoring sigh, Luda went back to the kitchen to finish prepping the meal, leaving Ahsoka with Rex.

Hestu appeared suddenly next to them, shoved a tankard into Rex's hands, and winked. He slapped Rex hard on the back once before walking away with a merry laugh.

"You sure you're old enough to drink that?" Ahsoka snickered into his ear, leaning her shoulder into his chest.

"Oh, quiet," he muttered, going in for a sip. They both knew he'd been to 79's with the boys plenty enough, even if just as the responsible half-sober parent, so it surprised Ahsoka when he choked on the drink and recoiled.

"What is this stuff?" he spluttered, peering into the tankard. Ahsoka strained too look at it in the warm house light.

"Only Raada's finest moonshine!" Hestu answered gleefully from across the room, scratching his long beard of fur. "Distilled by my very own hands on this precious little moon."

"No wonder it looks like kriffing pond water," Rex muttered, grimacing. He shrugged and went for another sip anyway, fighting back a cringe.

Ahsoka snorted and lightly flicked his ear. It earned her another eyeroll even as he tried to suppress another cough.

"Alright, kids. Dinner is served! Grab your seats and get ready to have some of the best food you've ever tasted in your life!" Luda called from the kitchen. She came in carrying a platter with one hand and salad tongs with the other. Vartan followed behind her, holding a large bowl and his drink, setting it all down on the table.

"Dig in, everyone!" Luda ordered once everyone was seated. They were all gawking at the food on the table. There was a bentu salad mixed with crispy flounuts and sautéed creos-vegetables, the platter of still-sizzling spicy "kod'yok" meatballs with patuu rice, and a small tin soup tureen filled with the proclaimed-famous traditional Anselm sauce. The aroma of the food wafted across the room, making Ahsoka's stomach rumble with excitement. She hoped no one else had heard it.

"This looks amazing, Luda!" Chenna complimented, laying her napkin neatly on her lap.

Banji nodded in a daze next to her, nearly drooling. "And smells amazing, too…"

Vartan chuckled, taking his wife's hand and squeezing it as he took his seat next to her at the head of the table. "Yes, you really have outdone yourself once again, my dear."

Ahsoka smiled at the little affectionate interaction. It was a rare sight to see, no less from the old man. She only wished there was more time for it these days.

"Oh, you all are too sweet for your own good," Luda gushed, purple cheeks blooming violet at the compliments. "Now, there better not be any left! I expect you all to eat every last bite."

"There won't be a problem with that, missus!" Hestu reassured her, eagerly moving to start dishing out the food. Everyone's eyes lit up with excitement. Even Rex's, which Ahsoka had to admit was impressive.

Hestu started to dish out the vegetables while Vartan passed around the meatballs. Rex took on the duty of rice distribution, all in precise, even spoonfuls (save for Hedala, whom he gave a half a spoonful), while Luda went around pouring on ludicrous amounts of Anselm sauce.

"You guys will never guess what happened out in the fields today," Banji started after they'd all started eating, munching on a meatball.

"Oh, don't you start," Kolvin warned.

Banji ignored him, mischief twinkling in her dark eyes. "Kolvin did the dumbest thing today. Okay, so like, you know how when you first turn on the thresher, you have to pull back the cord and hold it for a few minutes before using it, to let it warm up?"

Everyone at the table nodded except Rex, Ahsoka, and Hedala. Kolvin just glared.

"Banji, I swear…" he growled.

"Right?" she went on, "it's common knowledge. Well anyway, Mister 'Experienced Adult' over here—" she nudged the Rodian, "—decided that he and his thresher were just fine for whacking from the get-go. Of course, _that_ didn't work out."

"What did that do?" Hestu asked as Chenna politely hid a laugh behind her hand. Even Vartan was smirking a little.

Banji grinned. Her words were measured with a saucy, practiced inflection that said she'd already repeated the story many times over. "The second the blade hit the wheat, the engine backfired, rumbled louder than a hungry bantha, and exploded in his face!" She threw her hands out in a big wave for emphasis. "When we looked over, Kolvin was on the ground, covered from skull-spine to toe in droid oil!"

The table filled with laughter. Banji sat upright and proud, satisfied with the success of her story. Kolvin covered his face in his hands.

"It wasn't my fault!" he pressed, looking desperate. "I just…forgot, is all!"

"How do you forget to do something you've done every day since you were ten?" Banji cackled.

Kolvin lowered his voice to a fed-up mutter. He dragged his hands over his face. "Oh, everyone's a critic."

Banji ignored him. "Anyway, he was such a mess that it looked like he'd changed from blue to black. Everything he touched got oil on it! It was even in his nostrils! And he had to go all the way back to his house to clean up before coming back to the field to work. He left sad, sticky footprints the whole way home."

The laughter continued. Even Ahsoka found herself smiling at the sad predicament.

"That's tough, kid," Rex said sympathetically, though he was chuckling, too.

"It's not like Banji doesn't ever mess up sometimes," Kolvin mumbled, stabbing a piece of lettuce with his fork and shoving it in his mouth.

"Now, don't you go dinging up my silverware," Luda scolded.

Vartan raised an interjecting hand. "Actually, Banji's got a pretty straight record, as far as I'm concerned," he countered lightly. "You, on the other hand…"

The laughter started up again, this time fading slowly. The food was nearly gone, exactly as Luda had asked. Ahsoka felt full to the brim, but there was still a meatball and a half left on her plate, drizzled in the deliciously savory Anselm sauce. She didn't have to ask Rex to covertly pick them off her plate with his fork and eat them for her.

"What about you, Rex?" Chenna went on after a while. "Don't you or Rex have any funny stories?"

Ahsoka stared at her blankly.

"Yeah, tell us a good tale," Kolvin said, eager to shift the attention off himself.

"We don't really—" Rex started, but Banji cut him off.

"Yes you do," she snorted. "You've travelled the whole galaxy fixing ships and stuff! You guys gotta know _something_ funny."

Ahsoka shook her head. She stared listlessly at her plate and scooted a couple grains of rice around with her fork.

"There, uh, there really isn't anything…" Rex fumbled.

"Maybe you two were just too boring to do anything fun," Banji sniffed. "Lame old farts."

"Banji!" Chenna scolded. She reached to pick a piece of rice out of her dark curls.

Banji hissed and recoiled, then looked back at Rex and Ahsoka.

"Bak-bak-bak…"

"Wow, endor-hen noises, very mature," Kolvin huffed, but his eyes glittered with amusement.

Ahsoka opened her mouth to tell her that yes, they were just two lame old farts, and sure, they were too chicken to spill, but didn't have a chance before Rex opened his damn mouth.

"Well… there was this one time…"

"Oooh, tell us!" Banji said excitedly, insults forgotten, pleased with her results. Hedala bounced in her seat next to her. Around the table, faces lit up in interest. Even Vartan's, though his were laced with a deeper hint of curiosity.

"I um, I was doing my rounds, once, and—"

"What rounds?" Banji cut in.

"Rounds… around our shop. When we were living on… a different planet. A ship, actually."

"You lived on a ship?" Chenna asked in wonderment.

"For a bit," Rex said.

Ahsoka raised a brow.

"So then… there was this one time, when I was doing my rounds on our shi-shop, uh, that I couldn't find Ashla. And we'd recently gotten in a new shipment of helmets, so I went to check the storage room, and—"

"Helmets? What for?" Kolvin interrupted.

"We were… selling them," he answered rather unconvincingly. "Fixing them and selling them."

Ahsoka immediately knew where this was going.

New Phase II helmets, unpainted, just in on the Resolute. A dare from Fives. Doubt from Tup, pressure from Jesse. A pleading to _not_ try it from Dogma. Then a promise from Fives that she could have his dessert at chow for the next two rotations, if she was clone enough to do it.

"Rex—" she started, heat shooting to her face—

"Anyway, so I checked the storage room, and lo and behold, there was—"

"Rex!"

"The comman—Ashla, sitting cross-legged on the floor, with a bucket stuck over her head. And Fives was there, absolutely panicking—"

"Where'd the bucket come from?" Chenna asked.

Kolvin nodded. "And five of what?"

At the corner of the table, a deflated Hedala pouted. "You're bad at telling stories."

"Fives was a friend," Ahsoka cut in, giving Rex a heated glare, "and the helmet was _not_ stuck on my head, I was just—"

"It was completely stuck on her head. Her headtails were jammed in there, she couldn't see, and she was yelling at Fives to get it off before I showed up—"

"It wasn't stuck, it was just… tight!"

"No, no. It was definitely stuck, because then, _yours truly_ had to be the one to take a pair of vibrocutters to the plastoid! And I was terrified that—"

" _You_ were terrified?" Ahsoka scoffed, ignoring the ripple of growing chuckles around the table, "I thought my montrals were gonna get sawed off!"

"And _I_ was the one doing the cutting. Imagine the wrath I would've had to face, from both you and from the Gen—"

He stopped short as laughter burst out around the table. The loudest came from Banji and Kolvin, the jolliest from Hestu.

"So, you kids _can_ have fun," Hestu joked, eyes crinkling.

"Wait, hold on," Kolvin said. "So, you got a helmet stuck on your head? Did you ever get it off?"

"Clearly," Chenna sighed.

"Not without a battle scar," Ahsoka muttered.

"A scar?" Rex scoffed. "Please. I didn't even nick you!"

Ahsoka scowled back at him.

"Alright, Rexter. So maybe your stories aren't too bad," Banji snickered, leaning forward in her chair. "That one was pretty good, if poorly told. Tell us another!"

"Oh no, that's enough for tonight," Luda broke in, still laughing lightly. "You kids have to get home soon to catch your z's, and I still need help cleaning up."

Ahsoka let out a breath of relief, setting down her utensils and letting her face sink into her hands.

Rex chuckled to himself as he took another sip of his moonshine.

With another brooding glower, Ahsoka kicked his shin with her heel. He winced, but kept his smirk concealed in his tankard.

Ahsoka decided they would need to have a chat later.

"The meal really was delicious, Luda, thank you," Chenna said politely, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin when she finished.

Kolvin shoved the last three meatballs in his mouth at the same time and nodded eagerly. "Yeah, itsh great, the besht shtuff ever," he said around a mouthful of meatball. He swallowed with some difficulty and leaned back in the chair, placing his hands on his belly. "I'm stuffed. Where'd you even manage to get the stuff to make it, anyway? My mother's been looking for flounuts to pop up at Hestu's store for _weeks_ now."

"Oh, well, you know," Luda hesitated, "you can… find them here and there, if you look hard enough."

Chenna gave her a confused look. Hestu coughed awkwardly and shoveled another forkful of lettuce into his mouth to hide it.

Ah-ha, Ahsoka realized. So the black market _had_ made its way here. Her predictions had been correct, as usual.

It wasn't necessarily a pleasant thought.

Keen to put an end to the awkward silence, Vartan rose from his seat and started to collect the empty plates. "I'm starting the dishes," he stated. "I'll wash, and I need someone to dry. And could someone wet a rag and wipe down the table? I'm afraid little Hedala spilled some of the sauce."

Immediately, everyone rose out of their seat to help, but Rex and Chenna were quickest. Rex picked up the empty salad bowl and platter and followed Vartan into the kitchen while Chenna went to find a rag. Ahsoka resigned to helping Luda and Kolvin tuck in the chairs and straighten the rug, needing to feel useful somehow.

Seeing as the adults had it covered, Banji and Hedala scampered back to the box of toys to finish setting up the made-up tea party.

Ahsoka stayed quiet, feeling exhaustion lull at the back of her head. It had been a lot of social interaction for one day. Too much, by her standards. And lately, she'd noticed, those standards were ever slipping.

She could hear Rex and Vartan talking in the kitchen, words muted by the sound of running water and clinking plates. Chenna hummed quietly to herself as she wiped down the table, using her nail to scratch at a particularly difficult spot of dried sauce. Luda, seeing that her house was being well taken care of, disappeared around the corner to find her broom.

Ahsoka felt a little useless just standing around. She heard giggles from Hedala and Banji and decided that watching the girls was more helpful than nothing.

"Oh, hey Ashla," Banji said lightly as Ahsoka settled down on the floor next to them. "Wanna help me and Hedala set up the tea party?"

"Sure," Ahsoka answered, subconsciously crossing her knees into the lotus position. "What kind of tea party is it?"

"A _pirate_ tea party," Hedala replied dutifully, adjusting the way a tattered ragdoll was sitting. "For pirates."

"Oh," Ahsoka said, "I see."

She didn't. It was hard to understand children. She hadn't been a normal child, though, so that didn't really help the issue.

Banji leaned over to Ahsoka. "She thinks pirates are good guys," she explained matter-of-factly, trying to put on the air of a grownup. " _I_ only play along because it makes her happy, not because I actually like playing tea party."

"Of course," Ahsoka reassured her. "I never doubted otherwise."

"Banji, please pass Lady Sparkleface to me. And Ashla, you have to help Mr. Beantoe sit up! He's slouching over," Hedala instructed, pointing to the plaything out of her reach.

Ahsoka glanced at it. 'Mr. Beantoe' was just a tied-off sock filled with dry beans. And she wasn't entirely sure what a sock's 'proper posture' would look like.

"Maybe he wants to slouch over," Banji said. "He is a pirate, after all."

"No, no," Hedala huffed disdainfully, " _everyone_ sits proper at a tea party. Even pirates. It's polite." Frowning, she flicked her wrist, and the sock slumped to the right.

She _flicked_ her _wrist,_ and the sock _slumped_ to the _right_.

Ahsoka went cold.

Rigid, icy horror trickled into her chest. It dripped, splashed, and flared, scraping up against the inside of her ribs.

"He still looks like he's hunched over," Banji said. "Same with the wooden doll near you."

She had _flicked_ her _wrist_ , and the sock had _moved_.

"Nuh-uh," Hedala said tartly. "That's just how she looks. Anyway, their party is gonna start soon, so we have to make the tea!"

Ahsoka couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, couldn't feel. Couldn't think, at least, couldn't think _straight_. Her breathing grew shaky and she couldn't tear her eyes from the same spot where she'd seen the sock _move_.

"What are we gonna use to make the tea?" Banji asked, shaking her head.

"Our imaginations, silly."

This was not right. This was so wrong, this was so very, very wrong, so dangerous—

Ahsoka couldn't do this. Not right now. She needed to get out, breathe, breathe air. Air. She needed air.

Wordlessly, she got to her feet, and swiftly moved for the door.

"But Ashla," she heard Banji call after her, "the tea party hasn't started yet!"

But she was already halfway there, fingers coiled around the brass door handle, twisting it open. She hastily stepped outside and shut it behind her.

Outside, in the cold night, the air felt silent, even if just for a moment. The space was blessedly open, and Ahsoka clutched at her stomach with a hand. She leaned her back against the wall of the house and slid to the ground, too dizzy to stand upright. Pressing a palm against her forehead, she screwed her eyes shut and focused on _breathing_.

Hedala.

Hedala was Force-sensitive.

This—this could… what—what if… what if she—

Ahsoka forced herself to draw in another shuddering breath, blinking up at the stars and hugging herself. Her blood still felt like ice under her skin and her heart was still pounding incessantly in her chest.

There was only one way to be sure it hadn't just been her eyes, or a trick of the light.

Tentatively, she closed her eyes and reached out.

The Force melted at her unseen touch and the air around her seemed to still. Gradually, the Force signatures of those in the house became discernable, living. She felt first the warm, safe, and solid aura of Rex, reminiscent of wet stone, ever-present and always tethered to hers. Then the cool, lavender and sage aura of Chenna, followed the blunt, bouncy cinnamon-and-spice aura of Banji. Ahsoka moved past them and the others gently, searching for one.

It did not take long.

Dimly, in the dark, her aura flickered. It sparked, standing out amongst the others, clear and bright and growing.

The spark of the Force.

Just as quickly as Ahsoka had reached out, she drew it back, breathing in sharply. Her eyes flared open, and she became aware and in tune once more with her surroundings.

The chirping of crickets. The dim white streetlight. The wind of the night. The muffled voices from inside the house.

How had she not felt it before? How had she not noticed? How had this slipped by her, not even with the faintest realization?

She couldn't risk Hedala sensing her, sensing another Force wielder, on the small, little moon of Raada. She couldn't risk letting her know that her abilities were unnatural, unique, made for better things than farming. She couldn't risk her exposure. She could not risk her life.

Hedala.

Hedala was Force-sensitive.

Warmhearted, jovial laughter sounded from inside the home she rested against, dampened and muddled behind its wooden door and duracrete walls.

Ahsoka was still finding it hard to breathe normally and forced her lungs to inhale and exhale at a steady pace. Breathe in, breathe out, pacing with the crickets. Over and over again.

She did this until her hands had stopped trembling and her heartbeat matched the rhythm of her lungs. It felt like hours.

Next to her, the door suddenly swung open, spilling warm, yellow light into the night-drenched street around her. Ahsoka flinched back, startled, and squinted up to see Rex silhouetted against the doorframe.

"Are you alright?" he asked, one hand still on the door. "Is something wrong?"

Ahsoka steadily rose to her feet, dusting the dirt off her trousers. "…No, I'm alright," she answered, slowly, meeting his eyes. "For now."

He gave her a questioning look.

"I'll explain later," she murmured quietly. "When we get home. Just not here." She fought off the uneasy feeling that threatened to settle over her.

Rex nodded in understanding, leaning a bit on the door with his arm above his head. His voice turned to a low whisper. "Was it the sauce?"

Ahsoka blinked her confusion.

"The sauce," he said again. He glanced back in the house as though to make sure no one heard him, then leaned in closer to Ahsoka. He pressed his palm gently against her collarbone and held it there, sending a tingling shiver rippling across her skin. His fingers curled into her shoulder.

"I think it's kind of messing with my stomach," he whispered, his breath caressing her cheek, "same with Kolvin and Hestu. You, too?"

The scent of moonshine, crisp and pungent, drifted in the air between them.

Ahsoka stared back at him blankly. She noticed for the first time the hint of rose the buzz had brought to his cheeks and the way his pupils were slightly dilated.

"No, Rex," she said eventually, "…not the sauce."

"Oh," he coughed awkwardly. He withdrew his hand, and Ahsoka had to swallow her disappointment as it took the warmth of his touch with it. He scratched the back of his head as the rose took on a deeper shade of crimson. "Uh, right. Never mind, then."

He stepped back, holding the door open for her. Ahsoka felt the heat of his gaze trailing her as she walked past him and back into the house. She sighed through her nose.

"And I didn't get the bucket stuck over my head."

Rex cleared his throat again. "…Right. We'll talk at home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing several chapters and forgetting to update? Never!
> 
> Yes, always. I always do that.
> 
> Anyway, I actually wrote ½ of this and then lost it to The Microsoft Abyss, so it took a bit of digging, but I eventually dragged the corrupted file out of its dark hidey-hole a week later and scrubbed it clean before finishing it off.
> 
> I'm finishing ch. 17 up currently, just to let you all know where I'm at, but I try to give things a once-over when I post, which I try to do once a week, at least.
> 
> Anywhoo, hope you're all enjoying. I'm loving your comments and kudos, so, thanks again.
> 
> Bucket-head-getting-stuck thing inspired by a briefly mentioned sentence in @countessofbiscuit 's "At Ease".


	12. The Flare

Chapter 12: The Flare

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Soft rose faded into a black sky. It trickled between the stars like spilled milk, giving way to a placid, quiet dawn. The wind was brisk and heavy with the scent of last night's rain.

In Kanan's mind, it was a typical Lothal morning. And also in his mind, it was the only thing he really liked about this backwater of a planet.

The dewdrops that clung to the tall grass seeped through his clothes from where he lay on his back, but he found that he didn't really care. So what if he got a little wet? It had been another exciting night of thrill and doing good for the galaxy, and he felt that a pleasant nap in the fields was well-deserved. He would not let a little dew get in the way.

An arm length away, Hera slept, too, half-buried in the grass and crumpled awkwardly on one side with her arm hooked beneath her head, a position that did not look too comfortable. There were two loth-cats snuggled up next to her, and as long as the unpredictably-feral screeching balls of fury stayed far enough away from Kanan, he was fine with that. They were purring, and he was pretty sure he could hear Hera snoring, too.

And don't ask them why they were laying in the grass instead of on beds in the ship.

It was just because they _could_.

There was no one stopping them.

And the freedom was exhilarating.

As the night thawed, each glinting star began to fade one by one. Kanan got lost in a half-doze, half-trance watching them, eyes fluttering open and close, consciousness slipping in and out. Hera's endearing, steady snoring together with the loth-cats' purring and the wind on the grass slowly lulled him back to sleep.

It wasn't until a finger poked him in the side that he opened his eyes again and noticed a yellow late-noon sun against a clear blue sky.

"C'mon, sleepyhead. We've got work to do."

That was Hera. And Kanan didn't feel too inclined to listen.

He hummed and close his eyes again.

"Kanan," she groaned, but he was already sliding back into deep sleep. Soft loth-cat _mrrows_ echoed like a faraway dream.

Then something heavy landed on top of him and Kanan startled back awake, letting out a choked gasp. "What the—" he started, fully ready to take a hold of whatever loth-cat that had decided to mess with him and chuck it far, far, away, but stopped when he noticed the something was heavier than a loth-cat and much more twi'lek sized. And it was, indeed, Hera. She had rolled over on top of him and was currently staring down at him with her nose a pinch away from his.

"I'm not letting you go until you promise not to fall back asleep," she declared. Her green eyes gleamed with dogged determination and a spark of something else that looked like a playfulness, or a tease, or dare he say a _flirtation_ with a touch of _desire_ , but Kanan very, very quickly shooed that thought out of his head. There was simply no way that that was what he was actually seeing. It must just be the light playing tricks on his eyes.

"Well?" Hera pressed, leaning closer. Her tone was full of challenge, like she was daring him to do something. She smelled like sweet daisies and wet grass and he could practically _taste_ it on his tongue, she was that close. "Are you gonna promise?"

"I—I uh—"

"I'm waiting…"

Kanan slammed his jaws shut. His face was so hot he might as well have stuck it in a charcoal furnace on Kessel. "Yes, I—I promise," he croaked.

Hera stayed rigid, eyeing him suspiciously. She was pressed so close against him that he was sure she could feel his heartbeat hammering through his chest.

Then her scrutinizing look broke into a bright, shining grin, and she let out a laugh so light it could've just been the wind.

"Good," she said, satisfied, and it was almost as if she hadn't noticed how her face was very, very close to Kanan's and his face was very, very, red, and never mind how absolutely crazy she was driving him.

Then she booped his nose and climbed off of him, stood up, and walked back towards the ship.

"C'mon," she called back, waving him on with a hand, "Vizago's waiting for us!"

Kanan sat up dazedly. He swallowed hard.

Hera was already gone, her headtails disappearing around the corner as she ducked into the ship.

Oh, boy, he thought. He was really in for it, now.

For the past half-year, they'd spent their time going back and forth between Imperial bases and places like Tarkintown. They'd make their expeditions to steal ("borrow!") food and weapons then give ("no, return!") them to those who suffered most under the Empire's iron grip. It was a fairly well-worked system that Hera had figured out; their little excursions had become the new routine.

None of it was ever as crazy as the incident with the Pykes, but then again, it was hard to find any adventure as crazy as a prison break from a galaxy-renowned crime syndicate.

It was just enough danger that things could get dicey, but not as much so that their lives were put on the line on a daily basis. More like, twice a week. But, as they frequently reminded each other, where's the fun without a little risk?

Hera was thriving in it. And if Kanan looked in the mirror, he'd say he was, too.

"Vizago said he'd meet us at the normal spot in about half an hour," Hera explained as Kanan boarded the ship. They briefly powered it on just to fly over low ground to get closer to Tarkintown, then started the trek towards the egg-rocks.

"Any idea what he's got for us this time?" Kanan asked, swallowing back a yawn.

"Hopefully, something more exciting than crate delivery schedules," Hera sighed.

"What, are near-death experiences not enough danger for you anymore?" Kanan teased.

She elbowed him in the side with a smile. "No, no. I just know of some other stuff that needs doing from my contact—the one I told you about, Fulcrum? —and honestly, something different to change things up a little doesn't hurt."

"Nah," he paused, "I just think you like being in danger. You know, a little risk here, a little peril there… and then maybe someone'll come to your rescue." He winked.

Hera rolled her eyes, but her light blush was unmistakable.

"Oh, I can't stand you," she muttered.

"I thought you said you liked me?"  
"I'm good at multitasking."

Vizago was waiting for them surrounded by guard droids, as usual. He scrolled casually through a datapad but shut it off as they walked up.

"Well, well," he said, throwing his arms open in a lazy greeting. "Glad to see you're both still alive. Ready for the next run?"

"More crate delivery schedules?" Hera asked.

Vizago nodded.

"Sounds perfect," Kanan answered. Simplicity, routine. He liked routine.

"Well…" Hera wavered, shifting her weight to one hip and folding her hands behind her back. She twirled the toe of her boot in the dirt. "Don't you have anything… I dunno, a little more interesting?"

Vizago arched a brow. "Stealing supplies from the Empire not 'interesting' enough for you, sweetie?"

Kanan scowled. He really, really didn't like whenever Vizago called her 'sweetie'.

"No, no, it's not that," Hera said quickly, "…well, kinda. I mean, I'll always do the deliveries—they're easy enough and still good for the community—but there are some other jobs out there that need doing, as well."

"Like what?" Vizago snorted. "You wanted crates, I gave you crates. What else do you need for your little kiss-ass humanitarian missions?"

Hera gave him an annoyed look, but went on. "You know the ice planet, Rinn? I've heard the colonists there are in need of some fuel cells as of late. Know of any floating around?"

Kanan glanced in her direction. She hadn't told him anything about Rinn and fuel cells. But he supposed she was the one who took care of all the contact and info stuff.

Vizago gave her one more dubious look before sighing and taking out his datapad again.

"You heard of Ranzar Malk and his crew?" He said after a minute of scrolling, looking back up at them.

Both shook their heads.

"Figures. They're pretty big, but you guys are rookies, I guess," he put in, ignoring Hera's glower, "but they've let out a quiet word that they've acquired some more… _rare_ accessories, fuel cells among them."

"I'm listening," Hera said.

"Problem is, they're asking a hefty price for them. A price that you most likely can't pay. I, on the other hand…"

The Devaronian grinned smugly, like he'd just had an astutely sly idea.

Of course _,_ there had to be a way for him to profit off of all of this, Kanan realized. Nothing ever came without a price from Vizago.

"What is it you need, Vizago?" Hera sighed tiredly, mimicking Kanan's thoughts.

"Well, seeing as you're going to go visit Ran, and I've actually got some ongoing business with him 'n all… maybe you and the Ghost with all her precious little sensor scramblers could take care of transporting something for me."

"Something highly illegal, I'm assuming?" Kanan said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Young man, _anything_ worth my time is illegal nowadays. Have you not learned this? And it isn't like you two are much better," Vizago chuckled, handing off the datapad to one of the droids. "It's just something that I picked up along my travels, and one of Ran's buyers is highly interested in it. If you deliver it to him under my name, I'll just add the fuel cells to my cost. No problem."

"Hmm… that sounds like a fair deal. What are we delivering?" Hera asked.

"Ah-ah." Vizago wagged a finger. "No questions asked, yes? Your discretion will be a part of the price."

Hera and Kanan glanced at each other. She gave him a look that said I-don't-like-it-and-I-know-you-don't-either-but-this-is-our-best-option. Kanan just shrugged his response.

He didn't understand why they couldn't just stick with the crate delivery schedules. It was simpler. Less complicated, higher success rates. But, even though he'd been there for a while, Hera still made the rules.

"Fine," she agreed, sticking out a hand. "It's a deal."

Vizago smirked, taking her hand and shaking it. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always, my dear."

Kanan scowled.

They decided they'd get a move on as soon as possible. Kanan went back to get the ship while—much to his dismay—Hera stayed back with Vizago to work out the fine details of the deal and send along the information to the man named Ranzar Malk.

Irritated, Kanan did as he was told, stalking back through the grass past Tarkintown and to the Ghost, muttering to himself along the way.

Chopper met him on the bridge after he boarded the ship, plopping down into the pilot's seat.

"Hera wants us to bring the ship over to her to pick some stuff up," Kanan grunted. Chopper beeped his understanding and went to the control unit to turn on the ship. He beeped at Kanan again as he fired up the ignition.

"I'm not grumpy," Kanan retorted. "You're grumpy."

The astromech let out a doubtful whirr.

"Well, Vizago's just stupid, okay?" he shot back. He threw his free arm up in frustration, using the other to drive. "I don't like him. He's a self-centered piece of banthashit who only cares about credits."

The egg-rocks came into view, and Chopper activated the landing gear, giving a slew of low, skeptical bleeps in the process.

"It doesn't matter if he's black market broker, Chop! I still don't like him. And I don't like the way he talks to Hera, either."

The astromech let out the binary equivalent of a cheeky snicker as he helped Kanan land the ship.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Kanan growled. He quickly spotted Hera and Vizago walking towards him as the ship touched ground and moved to get out of his chair. "You know what? I don't even want to know. We'll finish this conversation later. I have better things to do than argue with an overweight glob of grease."

Chopper's mechanical chuckles echoed from the bridge as Kanan stalked off the ship.

"What took you so long?" the Devaronian joked as he approached, a guard droid following a footstep behind him.

But Kanan ignored him. Something was… weird.

He slowed as he approached. His attention was quickly drawn to the small metal box in Hera's hands.

It was… pulsing.

"What _is_ that?" he asked, leaning back a bit warily.

"I remind you of your promised discretion," Vizago prompted wryly, eyeing him. "It is of utmost importance that this is delivered… safely."

"Sorry, Kanan," Hera apologized, "if I had known it would be so small, I wouldn't have sent you to get the ship. But now that you're here, we should get going. We're supposed to be meeting Ranzar Malk at these coordinates in a few hours." She nodded her head towards the slip of paper on the box with a bunch of numbers scrabbled down on it.

"Right…" Kanan said, but he wasn't really listening. He was still staring at the box.

At first, he wondered why Hera wasn't as equally as freaked out as him about the pulsing box. But then, after a moment, he realized that the low, beating thrum he heard from the box wasn't actually happening out loud.

It was happening in the Force.

And that only made him more worried.

"Let's go," Hera said lightly, breaking into his thoughts. She walked past him and towards the ship. His eyes stayed glued to the box as she walked away. "We've got fuel cells to collect!"

Kanan tore his eyes from the box for just a moment to give Vizago a withering glare before turning to catch up to Hera.

"Are we sure that thing's safe?" Kanan asked as they boarded, the entry ramp closing behind them.

"Probably not," Hera replied dismissively, headed towards the bridge. She held the box up to her ear and shook it. Rigid panic spiking through Kanan and he bit back an anxious yelp.

"Huh." She shrugged and set it down on the dashboard, sending a wave of relief washing over Kanan."Probably just some expensive blaster or a rare variation of spice. Who knows."

Kanan swallowed his reply, uneasily sitting down in the chair next her.

The box—or rather, whatever was inside of it—was still buzzing. Within the threads of the Force, it felt like a flare.

Kanan did not like this. Not at all.

"These are the coords that Ranzar sent us when Vizago told him about the deal. It's in the middle of nowhere, which is appropriate," Hera explained, punching in the numbers. "Chop, go ahead and fire up the Ghost. It'll take us a while to get there."

Kanan only half-listened, attention still cemented to the box. It was pulling at him, tugging, reaching.

It's like it was _asking_ him to take whatever it was into his hands.

He stayed in a wordless daze while the Ghost lifted up and out of Lothal's atmosphere, ramping up to lightspeed and breaking into hyperspace.

"You alright…?" Hera asked him after a bit, giving him a questioning look.

"Mhm."

He chewed his cheek silently.

It was obvious she didn't believe him, but to his relief, she didn't push.

"I'm gonna make something to eat," she said, standing up and stretching. "We've got a while yet to go. Let me know if you need anything."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and let it linger for a longer-than-normal stretch of time.

And then she was gone, leaving Kanan alone with the box.

"What are you?" he murmured quietly.

He closed his eyes. Tentatively, and quite reluctantly, he reached out with the Force, feeling it out, looking for answers. It was hard, and he didn't get one. He was still rusty and it felt like the Force was reprimanding him for abandoning it for so long.

But the box still called to him. It was as if it was teasing him, mocking him, just saying _open me, and find out_.

And Kanan didn't have the will to resist.

With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Hera wasn't near, he cautiously reached forward for the box, picking it up and drawing it into his lap.

It was singing, now.

His breath held, Kanan warily placed his thumb over the metal latch and flicked it open. The lid came free with a click. The Force, cold and comforting, leaked out of the box, washing over his fingers with a gentle, frigid intensity. It was achingly _familiar._

And hesitating only for a few moments more, Kanan lifted the lid, revealing the source.

He stared down at it and drew in a sharp, harrowing breath.

Cubical and made of crystal in design. Ice-blue gemstone decorated pristinely with intricate gold lining. Glowing faintly, and, like a heartbeat, thrumming in the Force.

A holocron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just gonna say: even though Hera would canonically be approx. 17ish here, we're gonna say she's 18+. That's it. We don't do underage kisses here, no sirree.
> 
> Anyways, I just gotta say thanks again to the commenters. All your words absolutely make my day and are so, so encouraging. I love you all and I'm blowing socially-distant kisses. Mwah.
> 
> Also, I'm curious-- as this is a dual-narrative story, do any of you have a preference to one or the other? Not that it matters, I'm just nosy and too inquisitive for my own good. Curiosity will definitely kill this cat one day. But let me know your thoughts!
> 
> As always, much love. See you all soon.


	13. The Hope

Chapter 13: The Hope

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

With a well-trained deftness, Ahsoka placed the acid mines in the crevice between the shoulder hydraulics and the durasteel plate of the AT-RT walkers. She balanced effortlessly on one leg, foot wedged between a cleft in the mechanics, the other wrapped around it for stability while she worked.

Below her, Rex clung to the lower knee of the walker, one hand hovering behind her in case she fell, which she wouldn't. Below him, Chenna stayed on the ground, keeping a lookout for any stormtroopers, fingers poised at her mouth to whistle a signal the moment she needed to.

"There," Ahsoka huffed, finally managing to lodge the mine in the crevice so it didn't budge.

"Did you get it?" Rex whispered below her.

"Of course I did. Did you doubt me?"

"Not for a second."

She tapped the button on the charge. It flickered, then went red. They were flimsy and a bit questionable in quality, but Hestu had assured her it was the best on the market. And she trusted him. Somewhat.

"Coming down."

Rex nodded and climbed down to the ground. When the way was clear, she jumped down, landing neatly on two feet and a palm beside him.

"Will it work?" Chenna asked, dark eyes hooded with worry.

"We'll find out tomorrow," Ahsoka answered tiredly. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

The cause had been set into motion, its intricately-placed cogs beginning to grind. Slowly, very slowly, they were taking on the Empire.

They agitated them bit by bit, like a mosquito flying circles by their ear, buzzing and poking and prodding, but disappearing around the corner whenever they snapped their head around. Always present, never seen.

Tonight, Ahsoka, Rex, and Chenna put acid mines on the joints of the walkers. If it worked, the acid would melt the shoulder hydraulics, rendering them unusable and nearly unrepairable.

A couple nights before, Vartan and Rex had put electromagnetic charges under the eaves of the roof to the admin building. The charges activated, sent a jolt of electricity through the wires, and shorted the circuit breaker, causing a town-wide power outage that took the Imperials two full days to fix.

And a few nights before that, Ahsoka and Kolvin had cut the electric line in the barbed wire looped around the fence surrounding the Imperial's weapons storage. So far, it had seemed that the storm troopers had yet to notice, and until they did, all of their weapons were left vulnerable—to a looting, perhaps, in the very possible, foreseeable future.

"Will you be working in your shop tomorrow? Or at… the other place?" Chenna asked as they walked unassumingly down the street.

"Not sure yet," Rex replied, "but we'll probably be going in between them for a while. Lots of stuff to shift around, and the like."

Ahsoka stayed quiet, exhausted from the long days and longer nights. Knots the size of meilooruns in her neck and her back ached, sore from hours upon never-ending hours of being hunched over broken droids and tools. A dull headache throbbed at the base of her skull, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes from focusing and un-focusing on the dirt road below her.

The teetering street lamps cast long shadows in the dirt, much like the pillars in the Jedi temple at night. But this time, there were no emerald and pink flashes of light from signs in the distance, or red and blue glares reflected in the metal of the speeders and buildings of the cityscape beyond.

Instead, there was just darkness and stars, drifting endlessly above whispering grass pastures and placid farm fields.

Sometimes, Ahsoka wasn't sure which she liked better.

"Head on home now, Chenna. Get some rest," Rex said as they approached a crossroads, voice controlled but approving, as though he were praising a shiny after his first watch-standing. "Good work tonight."

"Thank you." She dipped her head politely. "And you two should get some sleep, as well." She glanced hesitantly at Ahsoka, then back at Rex. "You look like you need it."

"We will," Ahsoka assured her, lying with no qualms about it, "don't worry."

Satisfied, Chenna smiled, then turned and walked away, melting into the shadows.

"So polite, that one. Feels like she couldn't hurt a wompfly, yet she's planting acid mines on walkers," Rex noted as they headed towards their own house. "She basically told us we look like hell—you, in particular—but she still found a way to say it nicely."

"I'm sure Banji could've found a more uncouth way to put it, if that's what you wanted." She elbowed him weakly. "And you look worse with me. Don't talk banthashit."

"Mm-hm."

Finally, they reached their house. Both were ready to hit the rack as fast as possible. But as they got closer, peering through the dark, they stopped dead in their tracks.

The door was cracked.

"Did you leave it open?" Rex grunted. She felt him slowly reach for his blaster.

"No, did you?" she hissed back.

Again, her hand drifted subconsciously to her hip, and again, it found nothing. She swallowed the bitter resentment in her throat and moved on.

"Well, have we made any enemies lately?" she asked, turning to Rex.

Together, they took slow steps towards the door.

"If by enemies, you mean the entire kriffing Empire, then yes."

Another step. And another.

"On my count, we make our move. You kick it in, duck to the right. Take cover. I'll hold fire, but my blaster'll be at the ready," Rex instructed.

She nodded, then heard him click off the safety.

"One, two…"

They were just a few inches from the door, and Ahsoka tensed her muscles—

"Three!"

In a flying movement, she kicked out with her leg and struck the door, sending it slamming open. The impact coursed through her leg and up her middle, but she whirled around, ducking and rolling to the right of the room, exactly as discussed. Ahsoka landed, rigid, crouched with one palm on the floor and the other outstretched, ready to face whatever came at her. Less than a heartbeat later, Rex barged through the doorway, standing firm with arms raised and finger on the trigger.

"Ahh! What the hell?!"

Wait, Ahsoka knew that voice. That was—

Behind her, Rex flicked on the light.

" _Kolvin_?" the two of them said together, incredulous.

"Yeah, I'm Kolvin," the gangly Rodian retorted, squinting and raising a hand as he adjusted to the light. "What in the name of the gods was that about?"

"What was that about?" Rex repeated, angrily tucking his blaster away, "I think a better question would be 'what are you doing in our house'?"

"And hiding in the dark, to boot," Ahsoka muttered, standing up and stretching. She reached down to rub her ankle, and tisked. She kicked in her own door for nothing!

"Well, I was waiting for you guys to get back," Kolvin explained defensively. "Hestu wanted me to tell you about a new delivery he got."

Ahsoka arched a brow. "You couldn't have just… I dunno, left a note on the door or something?"

Kolvin snorted. "Sure, just for a storm trooper to walk by and find, then take back to his officer? No, thanks."

"Kid's got a point," Rex admitted wearily. He turned around and tried to close the door, but it wobbled and leaned unevenly against the doorframe. Two of its three hinges were dangling free and the third didn't look far behind.

It would need to be fixed. Tonight.

Ahsoka mentally groaned at the thought of just _one_ more thing to do before she could finally get some sleep.

"Well, what was so important that you had to tell us personally?" Rex asked, giving up on the door, probably thinking the same as her, and letting his rucksack drop to the floor with a thud. He headed towards the caf machine.

Kolvin propped himself up so that he was half-sitting on their table. "Hestu told me he's getting in a _big_ delivery tomorrow morning, right before daybreak."

"Daybreak?" Rex echoed, "that's in just a few hours!"

"Not my fault you took so long to get back here," Kolvin said. "How did the walker thing go, anyway?"

"Not important right now," Ahsoka said, waving a hand. "What's so important about this delivery?"

Kolvin rolled his eyes but obeyed anyway. "Hestu says that they're really, really heavy, and really, really illegal. So, Vartan's taking both me _and_ Banji off the team tomorrow to help take them out to the caves. We're even gonna have to borrow another tugging cart from his neighbor."

"I'm assuming we're needed to help get it past the troopers and to the caves, as well?" Rex guessed.

Kolvin nodded. "Yeah, exactly. We already know the watch rotation of the troopers ever since Chenna and I took log of it, but depending on when the shipment arrives, we'll really only have about half an hour to get it from the shipyard and out _past_ the fields before the troopers come out to said fields to stand watch."

"Half an hour?" Ahsoka scoffed, "if whatever this is is as heavy as you say it is, I'm not entirely sure that's possible."

"It'll have to be. Hestu and Vartan said as much. And honestly, with two tugging carts, we'll move twice as fast. It might not even be that hard."

Ahsoka hesitated a moment, casting a pensive glance at Rex, then turned back to Kolvin. He was right. It could be doable.

"Fine," she conceded. "Where are we meeting?"

"At the back end of the shipyard, right at dawn," he said matter-of-factly. He leaned back further on the table, crossing one lanky leg over the other, and looked around the room. His dark green eyes glanced curiously over the kitchenette, the shelves of broken tools and piles of broken droids and parts along the wall, the bunk bed in the back, the dusty window and the small door to the 'fresher. "Is this really where you guys live?"

Ahsoka frowned. "Uh… yes? Something wrong with it?"

Kolvin shrugged and shook his hand in a so-so gesture. "It's a little chaotic."

"Thank you," she heard Rex mutter to the caf machine.

"No, it isn't," Ahsoka retorted, shooting Rex a glare (even though he wasn't looking at her) and looking back at Kolvin. "It's perfectly fine."

The younger boy gave her a dubious look.

"Besides," she added huffily, "it's not like we've really had a bunch of time for cleaning around here, with everything going on."

Kolvin still looked unconvinced but moved on anyway. "That's a pretty cool blaster," he said to Rex. "Looks like an older DC-17 model from the war. Where'd you get it?"

"I, uh…" Rex stammered, not looking away from the caf machine as he poured in more grounds, "picked it up on our travels. It… used to have a matching one with it. But, uh… lost it."

"Damn," Kolvin said, shaking his head. "That sucks."

He stayed seated on the table, letting his legs swing back and forth a little, toes dragging on the floor.

"I don't mean to be rude, but," Ahsoka started, wholly intending to be rude, "are you going to leave anytime soon? We kinda have some stuff to do." She gestured with her head to the damaged entrance behind her. "And a door to fix."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Kolvin said. "I just wanted to hear about the walkers. How that went."

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Fine," he yielded, then hesitated. "Can I use your 'fresher before I go?"

"…Sure."

Satisfied, Kolvin hopped off the table and headed to the back, stepping warily around a wobbling tower of helical gears stacked on the floor. He glanced out the window. "This is a pretty good view of the fields," he said. Then glanced towards the bunk bed and gave a quizzical look. "And you guys don't share a bed?"

Something that sounded like a cup of caf clattered to the floor as Rex's head shot up, red and steaming. "What—do we— _no,_ you _di'kut!_ We—" he spluttered, but Ahsoka, sienna skin more red than usual, cut him off.

"Just use the 'fresher, Kolvin," she said sharply, trying—and failing—to hide the flustered panic spiking in her voice behind a mask of mild annoyance.

Kolvin gave them a weird look. Then he shrugged, turned, and disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Breathing again, Ahsoka rubbed small circles on her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. She tried to ignore the simmering heat rising in her cheeks and her much-increased heartbeat hammering away against her ribcage.

Beside her, Rex bent to pick up the cup he'd dropped, nose and ears still piping red. He swore and muttered incoherently under his breath. "Stupid, _stupid_ kid…"

The next morning, things went about as expected. Groggy and blinking away the couple hours of sleep they'd snatched, Ahsoka and Rex left their house and its newly-fixed door to meet the others at the shipyard.

Just as Kolvin had said, him, Vartan, and Banji were all waiting for them. As they approached, they noticed Hestu a little further back, deep in conversation with a Devaronian holding a data plan. The black market broker, Ahsoka guessed.

"Ah, there you two are," Vartan greeted. "I was beginning to worry you'd slept in."

"Never do," Rex said, maybe attempting to make a joke, but Ahsoka thought the truth of the statement was too depressing to be funny. She wasn't sure Rex was too good at jokes.

"Hestu's just finishing up. As soon as he's done, we're loading whatever it is onto these carts and heading out," Vartan explained, tossing his thumb over his shoulder at the conversation happening behind them.

"The guy got here early, so we've got more time than we thought we'd have," Kolvin said, grinning.

Ahsoka thought he looked like he had too much energy for as late as he had been up the past night, but she supposed youth did play a part in that.

Of course, that never seemed to be the case with herself, but her case didn't count.

"That's good," Rex said. "Hopefully, it'll be enough to make this easy."

And, to their luck, it was.

It went off without a hitch. When Hestu had closed the deal and the Devaronian had flown away on his rickety (and probably stolen) ship, they loaded up some impressively-heavy crates onto the tugging carts and drove them through and out of the town.

Ahsoka and Rex weren't too happy about so many people going to the caves at one time, but they had to make do. They split up and took two different routes, with Rex, Ahsoka, and Kolvin in one while Vartan, Banji, and Hestu took the other.

They passed seamlessly through the farm fields, not a storm trooper in sight. It was pretty amazing, actually.

Rex was frowning. "Sloppy," he muttered, so that only she could hear.

"I'm sure the boys would've done much better," she assured him, trying a lighthearted tease, but his frown only deepened.

Apparently, she wasn't very good at jokes, either.

Safely inside the caves, they unloaded the crates and lined them up against the wall of the cave. Ahsoka grunted as she held one of the crates down, bending down with Kolvin at the other end, setting it down on the ground. She pulled back her fingers just in time to avoid them from being flattened under the crate.

"Are you finally gonna tell us what's in these?" Vartan grumbled as he and Rex set down another one, glancing exasperatedly at Hestu.

"Sure, sure," the Bothan answered, scratching the fur on his neck. He winked. "Or you can just open 'em up and see for yourself."

"Don't need to ask me twice," Rex said. He grabbed a crowbar off of one of the shelves and pried open the first crate. The wooden lid creaked and came off with a pop.

Rex's eyes widened.

"Well?" Ahsoka prompted, "what is it?"

Rex chuckled, deep and honeyed. "Oh, baby…"

For a half a second, Ahsoka thought he was addressing her, and her jaw dropped while she coughed and spluttered for some sort of reply, but then he knelt down in front of the crate and reached inside. He pulled out a dark, heavy, blaster rifle. He was talking to the rifle, of course, the rifle. Obviously.

"A-280 blaster carbines," he whistled, turning the weapon over in his hands and scrutinizing it. "A more recent model, too."

Alright, Hestu, Ahsoka thought, regaining her sense of normalcy. That was… a pretty impressive find by the shopkeeper, she had to admit.

"Wow!" Banji gasped eagerly, reminding everyone she was still there. She fidgeted with excitement and bounded to Rex's side. "Let me see!"

"Not a chance," Rex said sternly, holding the blaster out of her reach. "Kids shouldn't have weapons."

Ironic, Ahsoka thought.

Banji scowled. "Where's the fun in that?"

Rex ignored her. He continued to look it over, ogling it with shining eyes and feather-light fingers like it was a newborn baby.

They popped open the other crates with ease, revealing a couple more blaster rifles, several explosive charges, and blast packs. Ahsoka held up a small, round charge in the dim light, inspecting it carefully. It seemed fairly well-made. Better than the other ones, anyway.

"Hestu, where'd you manage to find all this?" Vartan asked in bewilderment, echoing Ahsoka's thoughts.

"Well, with my recent involvements on the market, I'm starting to make some good connections," he laughed, placing his fists on his hips. "Sure did cost me a pretty dime, that's for sure."

"I bet," Ahsoka marveled, setting down the explosive charge and trying to count the lot of them. "How'd you manage?"

Hestu shuffled his feet on the dirt floor of the cave, drumming the tips of his fingers together. "Oh, you know… had to sell some stuff, here and there…" he trailed off. "…my uh, my distilling machine, for one…"

Vartan sat upright, staring at his friend. "You sold your _distillery?_ " he repeated, shocked. "That machine was like your first-born child!"

"She sure was, heh. But it was all worth it—for the cause," Hestu admitted. Then he grinned, and offered a nonchalant shrug, and flung a wink at Rex. "Plus, I'm not sure anybody really liked my moonshine. I think people just fibbed to not hurt my feelings."

"It—it wasn't too bad," Rex put in awkwardly. But it was obvious he was lying through his teeth.

Ahsoka stifled a laugh and went back to sorting their newly acquired knickknacks.

It took them the entire morning and well into the afternoon to organize everything, make sure it was all working, and tuck it away safely amongst their other supplies in the cave. Rex was clearly having a field day with the new toys, eyeing each one with a twinkle and barely containing the grin that ghosted the corners of his mouth.

Banji had taken a particular interest in the explosives, much to Ahsoka's disdain. She handled them as gently as an endor-hen's freshly laid eggs, eyes as wide as saucers with her breath held in awe.

In Ahsoka's mind, young children should not get excited over bombs and blasters, over explosions and battles.

Banji shouldn't have to worry about such things. Not bombs, not secret caves, not war, and not the certain doom pushing in on her home. She shouldn't have to worry about anything except if her younger sister is getting taller than her, if her crops are growing right, or what Luda's making for dinner at the end of the day.

She shouldn't have to worry about death.

And maybe she didn't, Ahsoka thought. She didn't worry about death, or even fear it. And maybe that was just the issue.

But who was she to talk?

_All I've been since I was a padawan is a soldier._

Her own voice sounded ages younger as it echoed in her head. It was so hard to believe that everything… all of… it—it was all well over a year ago.

With a start, she realized that Banji was the same age as she when she first walked off the Republic gunship to meet her new master.

Rex's voice, ever the same, steady, warm flow of comfort, drifted distantly.

_Well, I've known no other way. Gives us clones all a mixed feeling about the war._

"Ashla," came a voice. A small, calloused hand tugged at her own, and Ahsoka blinked, looking down at Banji. Her blue eyes met innocent, excited brown ones, and she was reminded of Hedala.

"Where do you want to put the rest of the charges?" the younger girl asked, sparky as ever. Foam packing beans clung to her dark crown of curls, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. Probably the latter. "They don't fit in the makeshift bin with the others."

Ahsoka felt Rex watching her from where he knelt on the other side of the room re-stacking ration packs. She tried to shake off the embarrassed, tingly feeling it left on her back.

"Oh, uh, we'll just keep them in the crate they came in, for now. Just put the lid back on so they aren't exposed," she instructed. Banji nodded and whirled around to eagerly complete her task, packing beans drifting in her wake.

"I'm going to go look around outside, make sure we weren't followed," she explained quietly, mostly for Rex and Vartan to hear. But what she really wanted was fresh air. And to think.

She climbed out of the cave, following the rays of sunlight until she stood on the rocky outcropping, overlooking the fields beyond. The farmers looked like tiny ants in the distance, meandering through the rows of crops, swinging their sickles at the towering golden wheat.

It was harvest season.

And when the harvest was over, they would plant the first season of the Imperial crop. The nutrients would get sucked up from the ground, the soil would become dry, rocky, and poor, and then the fields would be ruined.

And the doom of Raada would never be more certain.

A sigh slipping unchecked past her lips, Ahsoka settled on the ground, assuming her well-practiced lotus position. She breathed in, tasting the scent of stone, of wheat, of earth, and sun. Her eyelids inherently fluttered close, and darkness enveloped her.

She felt herself melt into the Force.

But before she could fully sink into it, fully disappear, something disturbed her. A noise, a person, an intruder.

The sound of pebbles falling and footsteps on the ground made her snap back awake, back into reality.

"Vartan," she said, surprised, but composed. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The older man moved to sit on the ground next to her. He held his gaze to the fields, slate-grey eyes narrowed in the bright Raadan sun. He breathed evenly, but deeply, as if contemplating. Ahsoka waited with trained, but wary, patience.

"I know about Hedala."

Ahsoka sucked in a breath through her nose.

That was okay. That should be expected. Vartan had practically raised the girl, and he was no fool. It only made sense that he knew.

She looked at him steadily as she spoke. "Then you are aware of the danger she is in with regards to the Empire?"

Vartan did not answer.

Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled.

"And I know about you and Rex, as well."

Now, _that_ was not expected.

"I—I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you—"  
"I know you come from the war, Ashla," he said slowly. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her, overtly solemn. "I know that you are a Jedi, and he is a clone."

Ahsoka couldn't move. She felt cold. It was all she could do to stare back at him with wide, frightened eyes and whisper, "I am no Jedi."

Vartan waved a hand, as if shrugging off the sheer weight of the words he just spoke, of his accusation, and went on.

"Whether you were a Jedi in the past, or you are one now, it does not matter. I know that you are one with the Force, and that you are sensitive to its essence, much like Hedala. It is a gift that I do not envy you of. One that carries a weighted burden with it, especially in these dark times."

The sun glinted on his weathered skin, casting shadows in the hard lines of his face. It made him suddenly seem much older, and much wiser, reminiscent of an old Jedi master.

It made Ahsoka uneasy.

She tried to focus on staying calm, staying collected, but she could not shake the feeling of ice creeping over her skin and the tremble in her wrists as they sat uselessly in her lap. "How… how did you know?"

Vartan hummed, turning back to the fields. "You may no longer carry the traditions of a Jedi, dress in robes, or carry a lightsaber at your side, but you still carry their morals and values in your heart. It is written in you. It is in your _bones_ , child," he spoke. "As for Rex… well, he is a soldier, through and through. You can see it in the way he moves, in the way he thinks." A low, gravelly chuckle escaped his dry lips. "You can take the man out of a war, but you cannot take the war out of a man."

A heavy, calloused hand landed gently on Ahsoka's shoulder, making her flinch. She was still scrambling to collect her thoughts, to breathe normally, to give him a normal, solid, adult reply, but it felt impossible.

She felt exposed. Vulnerable. Found out, helpless. A child with her secret let loose, a fugitive with a death warrant on her head.

In the back of her mind, she heard Rex's words, gentle and strong. Telling her to be herself. To be just Ahsoka.

"Why didn't you report us?" she asked warily, immediately hating the way her voice sounded small and full of fear. Even though that's all she was, right then. Afraid.

Vartan waited, mulling it over, as though asking the question himself. Then he began to speak.

"The world is changing, Ashla, and not for the better. A darkness is coming, or it may already be here. I knew the Imperials would come to Raada one day, and I knew that they would use us and discard us, with no sympathy for those who call this place home. I knew that innocents—little ones like Banji and Hedala, Chenna and Kolvin, and my wife and Hestu and so many others—would get caught in the middle, suffer, be crushed under the boot of the Empire. I knew that they needed something, or someone, to give them courage, faith in something, or… hope. And I knew that, with you and Rex, that might be possible.

"I worry about your generation, and mine, I do. I worry about where the galaxy is going and whether the endurance is there to overcome it all. It will have to be, but I worry about what will have to happen to make people endurant again. They will need strength to face the trials and tribulations they will be challenged with in the coming times."

Ahsoka listened, the dizzying, panicked spinning in her head gradually steadying, slowing. Vartan's words landed like solid stones of reason in her mind, the gravity of them settling her thoughts and her nerves that flitted wildly like felled leaves in the wind.

She felt the breeze bite the nape of her neck, brisk with the promise of a coming dusk. The sun was already setting. It was orange and bleeding and sending rays that burned spots into her vision.

"How do you suppose all of this will end, Vartan?" she asked, tone quiet, but firm. She had collected herself. She was calm, in control. She was herself.

"End? I'm not sure it ever will." He withdrew his hand from her shoulder, and she'd nearly forgotten that he'd left it there until she was suddenly bit by cold where his palm had been.

"But, until then, if it ever comes, we just need to stand for what we believe. And we must stand with those who we love," he looked at her again, and there was such a wise, solemn severity to his gaze that she couldn't help but think that everything he was saying was _right_.

She felt the Force ripple through the fibers of the sun-soaked air around her.

"I must stand with my wife and the girls. You must stand with Rex. And together, with our loved ones, we must do whatever we are able to, in these dark times. We must love, and we must fight. We must have hope."

And not for the first time, Ahsoka realized that she played a very small, meaningful part in the very big, ever-changing story of the galaxy.


	14. The Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I'm alive. Here, take this!

Chapter 14: The Doubt

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

"Hera. Hera, we need to talk."

An exasperated sigh echoed through the ship. "Not right now, Kanan. I'm making stew." A hesitation. "…Plus, I don't really like how that sounds. It sounds too… serious, or something."

"It _is_ serious," Kanan pressed.

He stared down at the holocron in the box, mildly panicked.

"Very serious," he added.

A few seconds later, huffing and with arms crossed, Hera appeared on the bridge. "What is it?" she asked nervously. She looked away as a tint came over her cheeks. "Is everything okay? I mean… are… are _we_ okay? Are you… have I… I dunno, have I been—wait. Did you open the box?!"

"Yes, but that's—"

"Kanan!" she snapped, rushing forward. She yanked the box from his hands and slammed it shut. "You know Vizago told us specifically _not_ to open the box!"

"I do know!" he defended, throwing up his arms. "But that's not important, I'm telling you, I just knew I _had_ to open the box, and when I did—"

"You bypassed the only condition he gave us!"

"It was important! I felt it, I—"

"You _felt_ it? You broke the rules! Kanan, what if—"

"Hera!" he said, loud enough to make her jaw slam shut. He took the box back, opened it, and reached inside. He pulled out the holocron and held it for her to see. "It's a _holocron_."

The little twi'lek stared back at him blankly.

"I'm sorry. A what?"

"A holocron," he said again. "You know, one of the ancient archives of the Jedi Order?"

"No," she said flatly. "I don't know."

While he stared at her, dumbstruck, Hera reached forward and snatched the holocron out of his hands. She held it up to her nose, scrutinizing it with one eye squeezed shut.

"What's it do?" she said suspiciously, as though she was still miffed about him opening the box, but he knew she'd already forgiven him.

"It… stores information," Kanan explained, suddenly feeling very ill at ease.

She tapped it with her finger. "What kind of information?"

"I dunno… Jedi stuff, I guess."

She held it by her ear and shook it, looked at it one last time, and then shrugged. "Doesn't look like much to me."

Kanan watched anxiously as she put it back in the box, closed it, took the box from his hands, and put it back on the dash. "No more opening the box, as per Vizago's instructions. You shouldn't have even done it in the first place."

"But Hera—"

"I'm gonna go finish the stew," she said, turning and walking back out of the bridge. "Please don't open the box again. We really want this power cell deal to go off without a hitch."

Then she left.

"Shit," Kanan hissed under his breath. He looked back to the box. What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn't let this fall into the wrong hands. Though he didn't know for sure what exactly was on it, he did know that it must be something very important. All Jedi matters were, and if they were stored on a holocron instead of in the textual archives, then they were _especially_ important.

Who would want to buy something like this? And how had Vizago even gotten his hands on it in the first place? The ounce trust he had in the Devaronian was souring.

Luckily for Kanan, he had the next several hours of flight through hyperspace to figure it out. They weren't due to meet Ranzar Malk and his crew for a long time. Hopefully, enough time to come up with a plan. Or something.

"We really gotta talk about this holocron thing," Kanan said as he walked into the storage room.

Hera looked up at him from her spot on the floor, peeling potatoes. She frowned. "What about it?"

"It's dangerous," he started, settling cross-legged on the floor next to her, taking a potato and a knife. "Or, well, it isn't, but it could be, if it got into the wrong hands. How do we know what this Ranzar Malk guy wants with it?"

"Probably nothing," Hera said. "If it's as important as you say it is, he's most likely just getting a hold of it for another buyer."

"Great," Kanan muttered. He couldn't help but sulk as he peeled the potato in his hands.

"When you say it could be dangerous," Hera said after a while, voice curious, "what do you mean?"

"Well… I dunno. It has to do with the Jedi, so it might carry sensitive information, secrets, or whatnot. Stuff that… wouldn't be good if it got into Imperial hands."

He neglected to mention the danger of it falling into Sith hands, in particular.

But Hera was finally beginning to follow him. "So, do you think something catastrophic could happen if the Imperials got it?"

"I'm not sure anyone other than the Imperials would have a use for it, so, yeah. It must be them. They're probably up to something."

Now Hera was the one sulking.

"Well, we can't have _that_ ," she mumbled.

A few minutes of silence and peeling potatoes passed.

"Alright," Kanan started. "What if we just asked Ranzar what he wants with it?"

"Brokers never share confidential information like that," Hera pointed out. "C'mon, Kanan. That's black market basics."

"Oh, sorry to disappoint. I don't usually dabble in illegal pastimes, unlike you."

She tossed a potato skin scrap at his face. It stuck.

Grimacing, he peeled it off of his cheek. "Very mature."

"Want me to do it again?"

"Nope."

Hera smirked smugly. Then she tossed the peeled potato into the pot. It landed with a _plunk_ and sent lukewarm broth spattering over her face.

"Aw, dang it," she muttered.

Kanan's first thought was that he wouldn't mind licking it off for her.

His second thought was, wait, what in the _hell_ —

"Well, if there's anything we can do, we could ask to meet his buyer, and talk to them about it," Hera said, wiping off the broth with her sleeve.

"That's an idea," Kanan coughed, frazzled. He swallowed and willed his cheeks to stop flaring. "But why would they tell us why they want it if Ranzar wouldn't?"

"They probably wouldn't, either," Hera admitted. "So, I guess that doesn't really get us anywhere." She dropped another peeled potato into the pot and picked up a new one. She was much faster at this than he was. But then again, potato-peeling hadn't really been in the syllabus for Jedi training.

"Maybe we could find out. Without them knowing. Look at the records or something, tap into their communications records."

"The Ghost is a smuggling ship, Kanan," Hera deadpanned. "Not a super-secret spy ship with super-secret spy techno-whizza-majigs."

They finished peeling the rest of the potatoes and moved on to chopping some lyckee carrots. Hera pulled out a bottle of some weird crimson seasoning she'd brought from Ryloth and sprinkled in a scanty pinch.

"Are we gonna be able to taste that at all? You've barely put any in."

"Trust me," Hera chuckled. "It's kala'uun curry, the spiciest on all the planet. You'll taste it."

"I just don't like this," Kanan groaned, dropping the carrot and the knife and letting his face drop into his hands. "We never should've accepted Vizago's deal in the first place. He's a scumbag, if you ask me, and he's never up to any good."

"Well, where else would we have gotten the power cells? Fulcrum said that Rinn needs them within the month, and his intel is always reliable." Hera objected. "They need the cells, fast. And Vizago's got the best connections at the best prices."

Kanan faltered, keeping his face in his hands. He didn't really know this Fulcrum, but he did know Vizago. And he knew that he really, really didn't like him.

He felt like he couldn't _truly_ tell her how bad the situation was. Without his background knowledge, she couldn't understand just how dangerous it would be if the Empire got their dirty hands on the holorcon, how absolutely detrimental it would be, without telling her about himself. About… the Jedi.

And deep, deep down inside, maybe so deep that it was the Force telling him and not himself, he knew the truth would have to come out one day.

The thought was nauseating.

Hera could hate him. Or she could think he was pitiful, or loathsome, or stupid, or a coward. In fact, probably all of the above. He'd dug himself deep enough into this lie— what if she never forgave him for keeping it this long?

All she had ever, ever asked of him was for honesty. That was it. And Kanan wasn't sure she'd ever really given it to her.

His master would reprimand him for doing such a thing. She would say he should have told Hera upfront, should've been truthful. It wasn't fair to Hera. She didn't know how much danger she was in just by being with him, how much risk _he_ was putting _her_ in, when Hera probably thought it was the other way around. It was wrong, and Depa would have told him as much.

His stomach felt like it was turning inside out, doing backflips ad somersaults and all kinds of crazy nonsense, and he felt very, very nervous, jittery. Like he'd downed five cups of caf and now his bloodstream was vibrating inside his veins.

Kanan… liked Hera, and he didn't want her to think of him as weak, as detestable, as deceiving. As a liar.

Even though that's exactly what he was.

"Hera…" he began weakly, sucking in a shallow, stomach-churning breath.

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I've got it. When we get there, we'll ask Ranzar if we can meet his buyer. Tell him it's something Vizago asked us to do, just to make sure everything went smoothly in the transaction. That way, we can talk to them, and get an impression of what kind of person they are."

"…How will that help us?"

"We can make a judgement of their character," she explained. "It's not the greatest idea, but it's something. If we get any weird, sinister, evil-poo-doo vibes from them, we'll call off the deal. If not, we give them the holocron, no problem."

Kanan gave her a look that showed he wasn't particularly convinced.

"Tell you what," Hera sighed, seemingly at a loss. "For now, let's just make this stew, then relax a bit. I've got a couple books around here somewhere, if you want to kick back and read, or you could just take a nap. We've got plenty of hours left in hyperspace, and we're stressing about this too much right now. Especially you," she said decidedly, scooping up her chopped carrots and dumping them into the stew.

Kanan swallowed. His panic was spiking and he needed to just spit it out, just tell her.

He shook his head slowly. "Hera, I… there's…"

"Look, Kanan, let's just think about it later, alright?" she pressed gently. "We had a late night last night, and that short nap in the fields doesn't really count as rest," she coaxed, and quite convincingly, if he might add.

Her sweet voice and honeyed tone was an excellent persuasive tactic that worked on him every time and relief settled over his spiking panic like seafoam over sand. Reluctantly, he started to calm down. Worry less. Listen to her.

Maybe he was just taking the opportunity for an excuse. Maybe he was using it to hide from her again.

Hera had been right about the kala'uun curry, and the stew was very spicy. Delicious, creamy, and hot, but very, very, spicy. Kanan only managed to save his taste buds from falling off by taking turns of three speedy bites and then guzzling water as soon as he swallowed.

"Weak," Hera teased.

"Not true," Kanan coughed, teary-eyed and red-faced. "You're just desensitized."

"That's not a good excuse."

More spluttering. "I—I've got a stomach of steel. I could probably survive—", a hacking cough, "—for a week on a cup of caf and a chunk of that ryloth chocolate alone."

"Whatever you tell yourself, Kanan."

Hera went to check up on the bridge while Kanan cleaned the dishes. He kept his thoughts to himself. It was hard to ignore the feeling of creeping dread of what he knew he had to tell her, so he focused on scrubbing the stains out of the stew pot instead.

"We still have a couple hours left," Hera said, coming back into the storage room. "I'm gonna clean out some of the dirt from Chop's shoulder detail. But there should be some good books in the sleeping quarters in the top left drawer under my bed, if you don't feel like sleeping."

"Thanks. I'll take a look."

With a carefree smile, Hera was off, leaving Kanan with a clean stew pot and his regrets.

He wouldn't be able to sleep like this. No chance.

With nothing else to do, he went into Hera's quarters, trying to ignore the mildly uncomfortable feeling it gave him being in her room on his own, and looked for the books. As per her instructions, he found them in the top left drawer. Pulling them out, then read their titles one by one:

_Introduction to Electrodynamics_

_The Principals of Quantum Mechanics in Space, Vol. 4_

_Fundamentals of Galactic-Thermal Physics and Hyperkinetic Theory_

So… Hera's choice of reading was… interesting, to say the least. Damn impressive, that was for sure. But he guessed it only made sense that she was a nerd. How else could she pilot such a clunky ship all on her own?

Though physics wasn't necessarily right up his ally, Kanan settled for _Intro to Electrodynamics_ , thinking it sounded the least complex, and went into the spare sleeping quarters that he'd partially claimed as his. He sat on the bed with his back propped against the wall and turned to the first page. Then he cleared his throat and began to read.

_Electromagnetism, or classical electrodynamics, is a branch of theoretical physics that studies the interactions between electric charges and currents using an extension of the classical Blagtonian model._ _In this book, we shall work exclusively in the domain of classical mechanics, although electrodynamics extends with unique simplicity to the other three realms, including friction in hyperspace, nebular pulls, and planetary magnetism (according to_ _Loonker-Jel's interpretive galactic-velocity formulae L=Fq-εσ^2_ , _respectively._

 _We will rely heavily on the theory of relativity (introduced by Bin-korl Flarg approximately 7294 years prior to the modern galaxy), although the theory is superseded by newer quantum galactic principles (developed by Blagan, Schradonger, and others). For objects that are both of high velocity and minute mass (or of a relation to_ E=Fq=kQr2, _as is common in modem particle physics), a mechanics that combines relativity and quantum principles is in order; this relativistic quantum mechanics is known as quantum hyperspace field theory. The electrical repulsion between two electrons in one hyperspace lane is 10_ _42_ _times as large (according to the Zaleen model_ P= εσA(T4-T04), _etc.,)_ _as their gravitational attraction, and if atoms were held together by gravitational (instead of electrical) forces, a single hydrogen atom would be much larger than the known universe._

Heckin'… damn. Gee whiz.

What a _bore_.

Kanan had to read the first sentence twelve times over again before it finally started to soak in, and by the time he moved on to the second, his eyelids were already drooping. The physics was so uninteresting and lackluster it made even the old Jedi texts he had to read as a youngling look appealing.

After about twenty minutes, he finally managed to get through the first page.

Green headtails and orange overalls appeared in the doorway.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Intro to electrodyno…mics?"

Hera bounced on the balls of her feet. "Oh, I love that one!"

She scrambled to his side and hopped onto the bed. She pressed close against him to look over his shoulder, making every nerve suddenly stand on end in his body.

"Oooh, you're reading about magnetic fields! Those are the coolest, honestly."

"Magnetic fields?" Kanan echoed. He wasn't sure if he'd even read that word yet.

"Yeah. I think it's such an interesting way to illustrate the magnetic influence experienced by electric charges in relative motion. I mean, what better way than to use the lines to show how a charge that is experiencing a force perpendicular to its own velocity is moving parallel to a current of other charges? It's just brilliant, honestly."

Kanan was too distracted by the shining glee in Hera's eyes and how soft her lips looked to even begin to try to comprehend what she was saying about charges and electricity and whatnot. If anything, her intelligence and brainy smart-ness just turned him on even more.

She hummed as though impressed. "You've picked a really good one. This is definitely the most interesting of all of them."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she zoned in on one paragraph. Kanan didn't miss the way she subconsciously bit her lip as she leaned closer into him.

Sweet kriffing Force, this girl was going to be the death of him.

Frankly, all the physics was all nonsense, but of everything going on in his head, from what the swelling feeling in his chest was, to how lovely and very attractive she looked, to how near her cheek was to his shoulder, to how he could feel the heat from her body was closing in on his, the physics was the only thing that made any sense. And it didn't even make sense! Physics was confusing!

"And the whole concept with rotational force? Genius! Magnetic fields completely surround everything and exert forces on any electric charge in motion. And that's not even where it ends, because _that_ magnetic field's location can vary its strength _or_ its direction. It's just bonkers."

Kanan wasn't even sure she was talking to him anymore. She was lost under a spell of physics and ships and… science.

When he calmed himself enough, he finally mustered the courage to try to engage in the conversation. He wanted to say _something_ about the physics, something smark like yes, he did know what a magnetic field was, and yes, the electric charge can be exerted on, and yes, he thought it was bonkers, too.

But just as he opened his mouth, Hera wriggled in closer, sending his heartbeat skyrocketing.

She leaned into him so that her cheek was squished against his shoulder and the top of her head just brushed against the stubble on his chin.

Was she… crazy?

 _Surely,_ she must hear the absolute thunder that was Kanan's heart right then, hammering away in his chest, because she was pressed that close against it. And she was so warm. And so close. And he really, really wanted to put his arm around her and tug her even closer.

But he shouldn't, and he should have self-control, because Hera was, after all, just his work partner, his ship-mate, his professional colleague, of sorts, and relationships were a very serious issue, both for his traditions and Jedi customs and, and—all of those things, so he really shouldn't think about such things—

"Huh, that's weird," Hera said, and Kanan thoughts immediately started whizzing faster, because oh _Force_ she was hearing how bad his heart was pounding and that he was sweating and she was going to realize that that's not normal, and that what it must mean was that he—

"I didn't realize that the fields were _produced_ by electric charges. I thought it was the magnetic moments of elementary particles, according to the fundamental quantum property."

Then she kicked off her boots, snuggled in closer, draped one leg over his, and took the book from his hands. She turned the page and kept reading.

Inside, Kanan screamed.

"Oh, never mind. I was right. The charges and elementary particles are just interrelated. My bad."

Slowly, and very, very awkwardly, Kanan settled into his new-found predicament. His arm did manage to shift itself so that it rested lightly over her shoulder with wrist dangling loosely. He managed to steady his breathing, but not quite his heartbeat, and get comfortable.

It felt… nice.

But that chafing feeling deep down within rubbed at him, his conscience, or trace of the Force, maybe, a pang whispering to him that he still needed to tell her something. To confess.

"Hera," he started, but as soon as her name fell through his lips, his resolve started to crumble.

"Hm?"

"I…"

His voice faltered. He looked down at her from where she leaned against him, charming and excited and huddled close with her gaze glued to complex words about physics and science and magnetic-things.

It was a sight that melted him from the inside out. It softened his heart and soul until he was almost certain he was slipping, like honey between his fingers in the Lothal summer. She was stunning, and she was _doing_ things to him that he couldn't even _comprehend_.

"Kanan," she said suddenly, nicely, although a touch confused, "what is it?"

He was still struggling to find his words, something he was usually so good at, so fast at, throwing little quips and prods here and there, and yet now he couldn't find any.

Hera closed the book with her thumb wedged between the pages and looked up at him. "Is everything alright?"

"There's… I-I…"

Then concern trickled into her pretty eyes. She frowned slightly, and Kanan found himself wanting nothing more than to kiss the crease between her brows to shoo it away, but he knew it would be clumsy and it would be inappropriate and that's not what he should be _thinking_ about right then.

Then the ship jostled to a halt, and Kanan's world was spinning so fast he didn't even realize it until Hera pushed away from him to get to her feet.

"We're here," she said, setting down the physics book. She bent over to tug on her boots, which had previously discarded on the floor. Kanan very quickly found himself red in the face and looking the other way.

Just as she finished, she whirled back around, smiling. She fell forward onto her hands, palms planted flat on either side of his hips, trapping him.

"We'll talk as soon as we get back, yeah?" she asked, "Unless you really need to now. The deal can wait, if you want."

Her smile was so thoughtful, so innocent, that all he did was shake his head weakly.

"That's okay. Let's… get those power cells, first."

"Great," she said sweetly, and it crushed his heart. He was just delaying, again.

"I promise we'll figure out this holo-box thing. It won't get into the wrong hands," she assured him.

Then she pressed a hasty, feather-light peck to his cheek before ducking away and practically sprinting out of the room.

She… what?

It stung his cheek where her lips had disappeared. The touch kissed his heart with butterfly delicacy and sent his head spiraling, again.

The aroma of her rose and meiloorun perfume with a hint of that spicy Ryloth curry lingered in the air, making the back of Kanan's neck tingle. It slowly started to fade, leaving him alone in the room—colder now, without her there—with his thoughts.

He was falling. And he was failing.

He was falling for Hera, and at the same time, he was failing her.

And he wasn't quite sure how he could recover from either. But he knew that he'd fallen.

And he'd fallen _hard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, lots of pining. I swear the slowburn will end (ignite?) one day.
> 
> But yes, life/work/school kept me tied up, so, finally, here's a chapter. I hope you enjoyed the silly half-assed doodle I made in a 5am lecture (bless timezones). There’ll probably be more to come.
> 
> Oh, and here’s the citation for the physics (you thought I actually knew science? Think again, bucko. I study history) I found in a book. Can’t catch me plagiarizing: 
> 
> Griffiths, David. J. Introduction to Electrodynamics, 4th ed. Glenview, Illinois, Pearson Education, 1989.


	15. The Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take my unedited mess! *throws chapter and scrambles back to the hell that is 2020*

Chapter 15: The Lost

18 BBY- 1 Year after the Rise of the Empire

The Lunar Festival was a Raadan tradition, and it was pretty much the only one the little moon had. A celebration of the end of the harvest, it was a time to be thankful for bountiful crops and thankful for the plentiful autumn.

Ahsoka didn't think there was much to be thankful at all for this year.

The Imperials had already imported the seed for their new crop. It lay in waiting like a burlap-covered death sentence in the storage units. The dawn of the day after the harvest ended, the farmers had been instructed to go out to the fields, till the land, and plant the crop that would be the end of them.

The people were growing restless.

They were growing tired, thin, weary. Eyes sunken in by blackened circles.

And to make matters worse, the cause was not working. At least, not as well as they had hoped; the Imperials had yet to make any changes based on their small pokes and prods. Instead, they were growing frustrated, unable as of yet to find the culprits. They didn't have anyone they could blame and punish, execute and make an example of.

The Empire was not leaving, they were not taking their crop away, and they were most definitely not restoring the freedoms of the people.

And the little hope Ahsoka had that they would was dying.

Part of her whispered that she never should have had any hope in the first place. That the Empire was cruel, and ruthless, and that it had been pointless to even think that there would be a chance they could do something. A chance that they could fight back. She'd been a fool to even think of something so ludicrous in the first place.

"We need a new plan."  
Vartan's voice was steady, even, but so low and so tense that it was more of an animalistic growl. It made Ahsoka uncomfortable.

"We need to show them that they aren't welcome here," Kolvin declared. "Enough of this tip-toeing around. We need to do something big!"

"What do you mean, 'show them'?" Banji interjected. "That's what we've _been_ doing. That's why their communications went down for a day, why their walkers are unusable, why their electric fence doesn't work. We've _been_ showing them that."

"Not enough," Kolvin countered. The Rodian dragged up a knee from where he sat on the cavern floor and rested his chin on it. "It has to be more than what we've been doing. We need open rebellion."

Rex scoffed. "Like what, a coup d'état? A siege? I can tell you right now, there is no way that any of us, even with the whole town on our side, could stand up to the Empire and make it out alive."

"Rex is right," Vartan agreed, rubbing his beard with a knuckle and a thumb. "But so is Kolvin."

Confused silence drenched the cave.

"That doesn't make any sense," Banji muttered.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to explain that one better, old friend," Hestu huffed, leaning back on his hands.

They were all in the caves tonight—Ahsoka, Rex, Vartan, Hestu, Kolvin, Chenna, Banji, and even Hedala, unable to find someone to watch her—sitting in a little circle on the ground like a children's playgroup or a mock Jedi council. All of it was making Ahsoka nervous. Both she and Rex did not like the idea of so many of them in their hidden sanctuary all at once, but they hadn't had a choice. Meeting in the village after dark was getting too risky. Stormtroopers were hunting the vandalizers and miscreants who disrupted their communications and ruined their walkers. The Empire was cracking down.

"We can't pursue a strategy of open violence that puts the lives of our town at risk, as Rex has said," Vartan said slowly, as if mulling the words over as he spoke. "But Kolvin is right in that we need to something bigger, of higher impact."

Silence, again. And then:

"We could blow up their entire compound."

Everyone's head swiveled in shock to Chenna. The older girl, usually so soft-spoken, so dove-like in her placatory beliefs, had dead severity in her dusk brown eyes.

"We could set charges around the admin building, the barracks, and the storage facility, take it all out. That would be big," she said, expression dark but tone wavering, as if she could hardly believe her own words.

"They'd have no connection to or method of communication with Imperial fleet or the nearest base," Rex murmured then, dipping his head in consideration. "It would cut them off, for a while."

"But that's big," Hestu put in, "that's crazy big."

"It might just be exactly what we need," Ahsoka said finally, rolling her shoulders back, cracking her back a bit.

"And it wouldn't put any citizens in harm's way," Vartan hummed, nodding. "In fact—I think I know just when to do it."

Vartan's idea was to attack during the Harvest Festival.

Follow Chenna's idea of blowing up the compound, the barracks, the admin building, the storage unit. Set it up beforehand, during the night, then at the festival, detonate it. Blow it all to hell.

It was… clever, Ahsoka had to admit.

"It will provide the perfect alibi for every citizen," she noted. "They won't be able to narrow down their suspect list to anyone."

So the planning began.

"We need to construct the charges, then we can divvy up who puts them where and when. We should practice in the cave. We don't want any accidents happening when we do this," Rex instructed.

"Good idea," Ahsoka said. "Let's start with that. Rex and I can show you the best way to set them up."

She looked towards Vartan, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. Then she turned back towards the group staring at her and began.

"The explosives need to be damn near invisible," Rex said as they sat in a circle configuring the parts and mechanisms of charges. "We need to tuck them away, out of eyesight. If they're found, this whole plan will go to banthashit."

"We can't just stick them on the sides of buildings. We need them in cracks, crevices, anywhere small enough that no one can see them," Ahsoka explained.

Rex nodded solemnly, holding up his finished charge to inspect it. "But they still have to be set well enough that they don't crack or fall out of place."

"But what if there's no good place to hide it?" Kolvin asked.

"Then find one," Rex grunted. "Get creative. Use your brain."

Kolvin rolled his eyes and went back to fixing charges. "Who pissed in his pot of caf?" he muttered a moment later.

While Ahsoka, Rex, Kolvin, and Chenna set the charges, Vartan and Hestu worked on marking a map of the complex, scribbling out where to strike in according to where the festival was being held a few blocks away. Eventually, Rex stood up and went to join them, helping them guess where the troopers would be at what times, where to avoid run-ins, where to keep civilians out of the fray, etc., etc. Things he was good at.

Banji sat playing with Hedala in the corner, who'd brought along two dolls (including the bean-filled sock), but the middle child's eye kept drifting towards the war-planning going on with the adults. Her gaze was curious. Tired of child's play, wanting to know more. Ready for a fight.

"Ashla," came Chenna's voice, bringing her back to focus. "Does this look right?"

Ahsoka looked at her just as she held up her charge for inspection. The two halves were screwed crooked and the wiring stuck out the sides. It was pretty terrible. The screws needed to be fastened tighter, the wiring refigured on the interior, the trigger tucked neatly into place…

But Chenna's hands were shaking, and Ahsoka couldn't have that. So she reached forward, intending to take the charge away and offer some comfort, but someone else's were already there.

Ahsoka blinked, looked up, and saw Banji. The younger girl's hands were wrapped around her sister's, gentle but firm.

"It's okay, Chenna," she said, voice more soothing than Ahsoka had ever heard it, dripping with sincerity. "I'll do it."

Swallowing, Chenna nodded, and handed the charge to her younger sister.

 _No_ , Ahsoka screamed inside, no, that can't be okay, that isn't right. She is far too young, too young to set charges, to sneak around in the night, to sit in secret caves and make secret plans for war.

She felt like she needed to say something, like she couldn't allow the girl, tell her she was too young. But she knew there was never really a choice. War was war. It had its way of finding people, plaguing them from a young age. She and Rex, of all people, knew that.

War. Forcing them to grow up too fast. Sending them to their deaths too fast.

In the corner of her eye, Hedala played with the dolls, giggling to herself, not aware of any of it, of anything going on, of the imminent death pressing in on her home. She was still just a child.

"Ashla," came another voice, this time Vartan's. He beckoned her from where he stood at the map. "Come see what we're thinking."

Ahsoka nodded, pressed her lips together, and rose to her feet. She silently placed a hand on Chenna's shoulder before heading over to the table, ignoring the dizziness that ebbed as she did so.

She needed to be a pillar of calm. She needed to exude confidence, resolve. Vartan's message of hope rang in the back of her mind, reminding her that she needed to stand for these people and show them strength. Even if her knees were shaking.

Rex eyed her as she moved to stand next to him, like he knew something was bothering her, which something was. She hated how it seemed like he just knew. He always knew.

"If we set off the charges in this order," Hestu said, dragging a dull claw in a line across the buildings they'd decided to target, "it'll send the troopers going in this direction, away from the townspeople, pushing them towards the outskirts of town."

"It wouldn't be wise to set it all off at once," Vartan agreed, "we should try to avoid casualties of the storm troopers. We want to prove a point, not cause unnecessary deaths."

Rex gave Ahsoka a look, one she didn't return, still questioning if she was alright or if she was about to topple to the floor. If he could sense she was falling apart at the seams, she gave him no confirmation of it.

Vartan nodded, deep in thought as he hunched over the map. "The festival starts as the sun starts to set, about an hour after the work week. It'll go well into the night, or even the early morning, if the alcohol lasts. We should leave the attack until about halfway through or so, maybe set it off around—"

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Ahsoka went rigid.

In half a heartbeat, they all whirled towards the voice, fists raised and blasters ready.

Standing at the entrance to the cavern was the scrawny, languidly-posed figure of an aging Gotal leaning against the stone wall.

Tibbola.

"So, this where that little 'cause' that everyone talks about is based, hm?"

"What are you doing here, Tibbola?" Vartan demanded, stepping forward. "You have no place here."

"Well, I was getting curious about where you'd pop off to during the day and night," he sighed, tone scathing and clipped. "So, I finally decided to follow you out here. Sure was getting tired of waiting to be included. Decided I'd just include myself."

"You're no better a liar than a lothrat. Why are you really here?" Hestu growled. His sheer size and protruding horns made him seem suddenly much more of a looming threat than before. If he wanted, he could probably squash the Gotal under his boot like a slug.

But Tibbola didn't flinch. He cackled, and a hiccup bubbled up in between. For the first time, Ahsoka noticed the beer bottle clutched between his gnarled fingers.

"You could be right, fat man. Or I could just feel very… patriotic, and I want to fight for Raada's freedom," he snickered.

"What do you want, Tibbola?" said Rex, voice short and dark as he lifted his blaster. This time, Tibbola winced, though he tried to hide it.

"You're a lying bastard, Tibbola. Get out of here," spat Kolvin, coming over to stand next to the others. Banji followed him, clutching a charge in her hand. Hedala trailed shyly behind.

"You're not wanted here," Ahsoka said evenly, her voice ice. Her heart was racing. She kept her fists raised and ready to swing.

This could go very, very badly.

When Tibbola didn't budge from the doorway, Ahsoka, Rex, and Kolvin all took a threatening step forward, ready to do make good on whatever silent threats they'd promised, but Vartan beat them to it.

"Tibbola," he said steadily, "if you know what is best for you, you would leave this place and not speak of it again."

The Gotal's glassy yellow eyes glared up at Vartan's grey ones, faces just a pinch away. Vartan's expression was calm, composed, but his eyes vowed a quick death. "A wagging tongue can set a forest ablaze," he warned.

"Don't bother me with your riddles, old man," Tibbola snapped, backing down and looking away. He hacked up some saliva and spat on the ground.

"You're the same age, you stupid sleemo," Banji sassed, quickly silenced by Chenna.

Vartan let out a satisfied grunt and stepped back towards the map, arm gesturing towards the exit.

Tibbola still hesitated at the doorway. A sly grin played at the corner of his mouth. "But first, I want to—"  
"We said get _out_ of here, Tibbola!" Banji yelled, pushing past her sister and swinging a hand in the air. Ahsoka watched with shock as she hurled the broken charge in her hand. It sailed the short distance and landed smack in Tibbola's left eye before bouncing off and rolling to the floor. He let out a sharp yelp and a hand flew to his face.

"Banji!" Vartan scolded, head snapping to face the girl, "control yourself!"

"Stupid girl!" Tibbola snarled, rubbing a hand over the screwed-shut eye. Her took a looming step towards her, and Banji flinched back quickly.

He was furious. And he was drunk.

He raised his hand for a quick, heavy blow, but in the half-second before the back of his hand connected with Banji's cheek, he stumbled over nothing and jostled backwards, tripping over his own feet.

"What the—" he grunted, stopping short. His eyes, unfocused and suspicious, wandered past Banji and glinted.

Slowly, Ahsoka followed his gaze to see Hedala, standing with her feet planted like little tree roots to the ground. Her tiny palms were outstretched and faced Tibbola.

In the air around her, the Force crackled and simmered and sparked.

Horror split ice-cold through Ahsoka's stomach.

Rex was already on it. He threw himself between the Gotal and the child, outraged. He jammed the nose of his blaster into his chest, sending alarm blazing over Tibbola's face. The beer bottle in his hand dropped and shattered on the stone floor as his hands flew up in surrender.

Vartan stepped behind Rex to back him up, seething. " _Leave_ , Tibbola. _Now._ "

Terrified with the blaster pinpointed on his chest, Tibbola obliged.

"Of course," he stammered. "I was just going."

He turned to leave, but Rex grabbed the collar of his shirt with his free hand and yanked him back around. "If a word of this leaves this cave," he hissed, knuckles fisted bone-white in his shirt, "the scut-vultures will be the only ones to find your sorry carcass before it rots away."

Tibbola nodded like his life depended on it. Which it did.

With one last withering glare, Rex released him. Swallowing, the drunk stepped around the puddled shards of his drink and left the cave.

Ahsoka felt her stomach flip and threaten to empty itself right then and there.

The push was small. It hadn't been noticeable. It wasn't her fault, Hedala had just been scared, she was just trying to help, she, she—didn't—she didn't know what she'd done, but Tibbola _couldn't_ have noticed, the movement was so slight, he just stumbled over the rocky floor in his own drunkenness, there was nothing that—

"Everyone needs to go home, now," Rex declared, setting his blaster back in its holster and turning around to face the group. "Take separate routes. Make sure no one sees you. And I mean _no one._ "

"Hestu and Kolvin will go separately. The girls will come with me. We'll finish the planning later," Vartan said sternly.

Ahsoka nodded along to what they were saying, trying to pay attention, trying to stop the panic fizzing up in her throat.

Focus. She needed to focus.

"Chenna?" she heard Hedala say fearfully in the back of the cave, "did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not, Hedala." A scared whisper. "Of course not."

Ahsoka's breathing fluttered and she swallowed back her own bile. She needed to be strong, and she needed to be strong for Hedala, and she needed to be strong _now._

"Rex and I will conceal all of the weapons, take them and store them further into the caves where they'll be harder to find," she said firmly."If someone does find out about this place, we can't have anything incriminating. We'll clear out this main cavern and make it look like an abandoned shelter." Her back straightened and she shoulders rolled back, as though she was setting herself into the dignified shell of what she needed to be. "The plan will still go on. We will just need to be more careful. Set the charges quicker, and in very small groups."

Rex grunted his agreement and she tried to ignore the way her skin prickled when he looked at her.

"I'll roll up the map," she continued. "Someone should take that home and keep it somewhere safe. We can't leave it here to be found."

"I can do that," Hestu offered.

"And someone needs to follow Tibbola home, and make sure he doesn't go to the cantina and open his loud drunken mouth," Rex added gruffly.

"I'll do that," Kolvin volunteered. He dashed for the entrance and disappeared.

Hestu left moments later, taking the map with him. Vartan helped Rex and Ahsoka move some of the heavier crates further into the caves, staying about another half hour, but everyone was tense, needed sleep, and needed to go home. Every second they spent in the caves felt like another minute risked being found out.

"Alright girls, let's get you home," Vartan said after a while, beckoning to the three girls waiting in the corner.

Chenna sat upright and awake, Hedala asleep in her arms with Banji dozing off on her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Ahsoka and Rex followed them up and out of the caves. Her hand hovered near Hedala the entire way, as though she could shatter into pieces at any second. Her pudgy cheek was mushed against Chenna's shoulder and her snores were tiny and droning.

"We'll meet again in a few days, but not anytime soon," Vartan said once they breached the entrance. His words were curt but the circles under his eyes did nothing to hide his exhaustion. "We can't risk being seen together for a while."

"We'll head here after crokin and dinner at the end of the work week," Rex told him.

Ahsoka nodded her head, still presenting the put-together and self-assured leader that they thought she was, and very well used to be. Jaw set, bearing firm. Even breathing. A pillar of confidence.

But all she could say when they turned to leave was a weak, hushed, "stay safe."

Vartan and the girls headed down the rocky slope towards their cargo speeder. Ahsoka watched with trepidation as the older man lifted the three girls into the cart and then climbed on, kicked back the stand, and sped off.

As they disappeared into the night-swathed fields, Ahsoka thought to start their trek home. There was nothing left to do. The most logical thing would be to go get some rest, or to continue working on the repairs she still had to do for her normal job, her job as a mechanic, which was waiting for her in the shop. Yes, the shop. In the shop, she would be able to find something that needed doing. There was always something that needed doing.

Ahsoka moved to take a step forward, to leave the cave behind, to go back to the shop. But Rex caught her arm above the elbow and gently tugged her back.

"Rex, what—"

"Shh, just breathe. It's alright."

She wasn't sure what he was doing until his arms were around her and she was pressed against his chest, breathing him in.

He didn't have to use words. He just drew her into him and held her close, like he knew she'd been putting up a front and that she wasn't okay, that she'd just been pretending to be a pillar of calm, but was in fact crumbling like ancient ruins or a bombed Jedi temple.

All she wanted was to be back on the Resolute, standing alongside her master, with the men and their brothers all safely at her side.

Instead, they were all dead, and she was here, fearing that within the week, she and Rex and everyone they were fighting for would be dead, too.

Ahsoka's chest clenched as shock and dread ripped through her body. Her ribs cracked open and let out a quiet, strangled cry. She started to sink, her knees crumpling to the ground, her elbows caught on Rex's arms as he tried to hold her up. But she just kept sinking, crumbling, breaking.

He didn't ask permission before he lifted her unceremoniously into his arms—because she wouldn't give it, she would just say she was alright and then topple over again—and carried her back into the caves.

Once inside the dim-lit safety of their sanctuary, Rex set her down gently, leaning against the wall and half-cradling her in her arms as she shivered and breathed and struggled to open her eyes.

"Rex—Rex, I, what if I—what if I did the wrong thing, what if he knows about Hedala? What if they find out, and—I don't know—I don't know what would happen, but—but it can't be good, it couldn't—what if—"

"Ahsoka, just breathe. You couldn't do anything. He couldn't have seen. Hedala is safe, and you kept her that way."

She shuddered and caved in closer to him, her bones feeling cold and heavy. She felt her heartbeat racing beyond its limits while her head was spinning to the point of nausea. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Rex's shirt as she tried to anchor herself in him. But she refused to open her eyes, refused to meet his gaze, because she knew she'd lose it the second she did.

"No! No, I—should've heard him, should've felt him coming, footsteps and the—the Force, I should've been able to _sense_ him, and, and—and now it's all at risk, the cause, the plan, the rebellion, everything—"

She stopped, choking. The words were trapped somewhere between her throat and in her stomach, and if she wasn't careful, she'd throw it all up on the ground. It made her want to scream.

Rex waited patiently, holding her tight, rubbing gentle circles into her back like it would help ease the words out. He tucked his leg closer around her so that it kept her more secure against him, less likely to teeter over.

Ahsoka took in a shaky breath and tried. "Everything… everything we have done up until now… would have all been for nothing. Just like that. And… and Hedala…"

Her voice splintered into a whisper.

"Her blood could be on my hands."

"Don't say that," Rex said sharply, tightening his grip on her. "Don't say things that aren't true. You know that's not true. Tibbola saw nothing, and he won't say anything. Everyone is safe, and we can protect them."

But Ahsoka wasn't thinking about Tibbola anymore. She was spiraling, lost to everything. Her mind tumbled elsewhere, spinning back to the beginning of it all. Sitting in that gaudy, red-painted cantina, flicking couscous at each other and discussing whether they should stay or run. He said run, and she fought him on it. She fought him on rebellion. On deciding to fight the Empire.

"I should have listened. We should never have stayed. We've put them all in danger."

"We've given them a fighting chance."

"No, Rex," she said, her voice sharp and agonized. "I've—I've put their lives at risk, when—"

"Ahsoka, you didn't—"

"—when this could've all been for nothing, and—"

"But it's not for nothing, we've just—"

"—and I could lose _you_!"

Rex's arms went rigid around her. His breath hitched in his throat.

In the Force, Ahsoka felt his heartbeat start to pound.

She wanted to cry. She didn't want to face it, the truth, her greatest fear. The fear of losing the only thing she had left.

Jedi couldn't cry. But she wanted to.

And she was no Jedi.

It was hard, at first. Her eyes were brimming, but the tears inverted, bringing a maddening tingling to the tip of her nose, a hot and swollen heaviness behind her eyes, and a bitter, salty tang to her tongue. It made her want to shout and curse. Why couldn't she just cry? Why couldn't she just let it out?

Then she felt Rex's arms tighten around her, shaking and desperate. She felt the warmth of him embrace her like a silent promise. She felt him press his lips against her montral, warm and heavy, gentle and tender. Then he tucked his chin into his chest and pressed his cheek against her forehead. She felt it was wet.

Her tears began to slip away.

They held each other like this, quiet and crying, distressed and longing, unable to let go. Ahsoka wept into his shoulder, mourning for all that she had lost and all that was to come. She cried so hard she couldn't breathe. Rex held her close, didn't let her go, but his body was racked with quiet, choked, heaving sobs. His hands trembled as they grasped at her waist and pulled at her shoulders. He just wanted her closer, closer.

His breath caressed her nose as he cupped her wet cheeks in his palms and lifted her face to his. He brought her close and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes stayed screwed shut as he held her, tears falling unchecked down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and mingling with hers.

"'Soka—"

His voice cracked, and so did her heart.

"'Soka, I—I won't lose you."

Ahsoka shattered. She melted brokenly into his arms, a tumbling, ugly, sobbing mess. His hands were warm on her cheeks and she could feel the pulse in his palms pressed against her jaw. She let her arms find their way up his chest, shaking and unsteady. Then she pressed a kiss into his shoulder, pressed her lips against his neck. With numb fingertips, she entwined her hands around the back of his head. She let a thumb caress his tear-stained cheek.

When the words slipped past her lips, they sounded like a choked prayer.

"You will never lose me."

They fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs on the cavern floor, desperate kisses and hushed tears, reassuring touches and tight embraces, clutching at each other like they were the only thing they had left in the galaxy.

And they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never? Written so much angst before? But I feel like if all my friends and family had tried to kill me and then died in a terrible venator crash, I'd also be sad all the time? Man I dunno
> 
> Anyway, busy times get busier. Hope you enjoyed and that you're all doing well! Thanks as always for your lovely comments and support :))


	16. The Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Hi! Life's been hectic, but I've not forgotten about this story. I complete things. It's what I do! I can't leave things unfinished!  
> That said, this chapter feels like ~trash~ to me, but that might be because I've stared at it for about a century. Either way, here it is. Much love to you all as always.

Chapter 16: The Found

14 BBY- 5 Years after the Rise of the Empire

Kanan's cheek was still stinging from Hera's lips as he yanked on his boots and headed down to exit the ship. She was waiting for him there, box in hand as she gave him her signature sweet smile. Traces of a blush still darkened her the green of her cheeks.

"We'll ask Ranzar to meet the buyer, just as we discussed," she said confidently. "Then we can make a good judge of his character."

"And what do we do if we think he's a bad guy? Tell him 'no, you can't have it, we don't like you'?"

Hera placed a petal-light hand on his shoulder. "Kanan," she started, and the way his name slipped off her tongue like honey made his cheek burn again where she'd kissed him, "if this is a bad guy, then we'll call off the deal. We'll find some power cells elsewhere."

Kanan blinked in surprise. "You'd… be okay with that?"

"Of course." She gave him a funny look. "I trust you, so if you think this thing really could be bad, then we'll make sure it stays in safe hands."

Then she pressed the switch on the wall and the hangar ramp started to lower.

Kanan felt himself sink six feet lower into the quicksand that was his crushing, wimpy guilt.

They'd landed the Ghost in the hangar bay of Ranzar's space-station-thing, sending a quick message that they were the incoming delivery from Vizago. Hera and Kanan disembarked and stepped into the temperature-controlled hangar bay. Taking in his surroundings, Kanan noticed the numerous crates of all shapes, sizes, and origins stacked around them. Some of them had the insignias of crime syndicates like the Black Sun, others the stamped emblems of the Empire. Some had no markings of all, which he deduced were from small-time producers like Vizago. But Kanan got the idea that whatever Ran was running was a much larger business than whatever his least-favorite Devaronian had going on in his ugly Lothal warehouse.

"Ahh, yes. You two must be Vizago's friends!"

They turned to see a man of a stocky build with a thick, black beard walking towards them. He lifted a pair of rusted mechanic's goggles off of his ruddy face and peeled off a pair of weirdly-orange rubber gloves, all the while peering at them with curious eyes.  
"I wouldn't say 'friends'," Kanan muttered.

Hera quickly reprimanded him with a hard nudge of the elbow. "That we are," she beamed, giving Kanan a side look that said mind-your-manners, you incompetent dumbass, "And you're Ranzar Malk?"

The man bowed facetiously. "At your service," he said, looking up with a giddy grin, "but you can call me Ran." He winked coquettishly at Hera.

Ranzar Malk was automatically placed on Kanan's bad list.

"Wow," Hera breathed, looking around. "Vizago told us you had a big operation, but this place is huge!"

"Yeah, she was a real piece of work to assemble, but she does her job," he sighed, slapping the wall of the spaceship as though it was a pet. "So have you got my merchandise?"

Hera shifted slightly. "About that…"

Something dark flickered into Ran's eyes, but Kanan couldn't tell if it was anger or fear.

"What? Did you lose it?"  
"No, no," Hera said hastily, shaking her head. She nodded to the box in her hands. "We would just like to meet the buyer."

Ran's posture relaxed, but he still looked unconvinced. "You… want to meet the buyer."

"It's in our best interests," Kanan said shortly, stepping forward and a little bit in front of Hera.

"How?"

Hera pushed past him again, offering an apologetic smile. Another elbow to the side, this one bruising enough to make him wince. "What Kanan means is, well—we just want to make sure the buyer is… appreciative of the merchandise. We can't have something so valuable falling into the hands of a petty thief, can we?"

"I assure you, my buyer is no petty thief—"

"Well, we just want to be sure," Kanan cut in.

Ran stared at them for a moment longer. Then he shrugged, combed a hand through his long beard, and turned the other way, headed deeper into the station. "Well, I don't care. As long as I get my credits, you can meet whoever you want. He'll be here in a bit."

"Great," Kanan sighed, "more waiting."

"Patience, young one," Hera said in a mocking-old-lady voice that reminded him far too much of Master Jocasta whenever scolded him in the library, "we'll just hang out until he gets here. We're in no rush."

But Kanan felt like he _was_ rushing. The holocron still pounded like a war drum from its hiding place in the box in Hera's hands. He felt like something bad was coming and it was trying to warn him, or some silly Jedi-nonsense like that.

Kanan wasn't a fool. He was a young padawan when the Order fell and he lost his master, and he was in no way proficient in his use of the Force or in his knowledge of its capabilities.

If the holocron was warning him of something—if that was indeed what it was trying to do, because how could he know?—he'd have absolutely no idea just how to figure out what.

Then Hera put a hand on his cheek, rose onto her tiptoes, and clumsily pressed her lips against his in a vibrant, blooming, stolen kiss.

She leaned back quickly, sheepishly, looking up at him embarrassedly. "Was—was that okay?"  
Kanan barely managed a faint nod.

"Oh, oh great. It's—uh, for good luck."

"There's no such thing as luck," Kanan whispered weakly a moment later. But she had already turned her back to him and sped off towards the ship.

He swallowed thickly, eyes stretched wider than a bantha's testes and jaw left hanging ajar. His heart thrummed in his chest and his cheeks felt like they were on fire as his brain scrambled desperately to make sense of it all.

Did that just happen?

Did Hera just… _kiss_ him?

As Ran had promised, the buyer arrived within the hour. The hangar bay ray shield flickered off and a slick, dark-grey ship flew in and landed. The shield went back up, deeming safe breathing levels and guaranteed gravity, and a figure emerged from the belly of the ship.

Around Kanan, the air seemed to go still. An unseen cold seeped into the atmosphere like liquid nitrogen leaking from a broken pipe.

"Hera," he murmured, subtly grabbing her arm. He couldn't explain the absolutely _dreadful_ feeling that was creeping up his spine, but he did know that it was _wrong_.

"…Hera, I don't think—"  
"Hello!" she called out. She left Kanan's side, pulling away from his hand on her arm, and walked towards the figure. Kanan fought back the urge to race after her and yank her back.

"Greetings," the figure said coolly. He was dressed in a charcoal-black uniform with his features were hidden behind a black mask. His fingertips were a dull blue and his voice modified. And, if all of that didn't scream _evil_ enough, the Imperial insignia gleamed bone-white on his chest.

The figure stepped towards Hera. "Are you Ranzar Malk?"

Kanan couldn't handle it anymore. This man was bad, bad, _bad_ , and every shriveled cell he had left in his brain was absolutely screaming at him to get Hera, get the holocron, and _leave._

Hera shook her head. "No, but—"

"Actually, we were just leaving," Kanan cut her off, jogging up behind her. He didn't miss the way the figure's posture stiffened when he approached, and he definitely didn't miss the way it leaned forward as though to study him.

All very bad signs.

Not taking any chances, Kanan wrapped his hand tight around Hera's elbow again and tugged her towards the ship.

"Ran's somewhere around here, probably on his way right now," he said cheerily. "Have a good day!"

"Kanan, wait—" Hera started, but he was already pulling her with him back towards the Ghost.

"Trust me, we gotta—"

Suddenly, Hera twisted around at an abrupt speed, jolting him to a stop. She yelped as the box was ripped from her hands. It flew across the hangar bay and directly into the palm of the figure.

"I do believe this is mine."

Kanan froze. "I… there must be a misunderstanding, that box is nothing, just—"

"Oh, there's no misunderstanding," he chuckled, words oozing a saccharine poison. He flicked open the latch on the box and rolled his wrist, effortlessly lifting the holocron into the air without touching it. "In fact, it must be my lucky day. Not only have I acquired a holocron for my master, but I've also found a Jedi who can open it for me."

Kanan went still. Ice trickled into his veins and panic started to pound in his ears.

No, no, no, no—

"Kanan's not a Jedi," Hera snorted next to him, yanking her arm out of his tight grip and stepping forward. She pulled her blaster out of its hilt and aimed it. "And that's ours. Give it back!"

The masked figure let out an empty laugh that resonated eerily throughout the hangar like black smog. He reached for a circular device on his hip and held it out in front of him.

"Foolish girl. You can't fight me. But… maybe he can. In fact, it could be fun."

There was a click. Then a low, droning hum.

Kanan felt the blood drain from his face as he watched two crimson blades of sinful light ignite from the hilt. He went rigid, glued into place, muscles turned to stone, worse than a loth-cat in headlights.

Then the figure threw himself at him.

Kanan dodged at the last second, jumping to the side and crashing onto the floor, taking Hera with him. The blade came down again and he just managed to roll out of the way and clamber to his feet.

"Interesting," the figure mused. "Lost your lightsaber, have you?"

Kanan barely had time to pull Hera up next to him before the figure rushed at them again. He shoved her roughly, sending her stumbling out of the way of danger and whatever that _thing_ was, then dodged to the right. He could still feel the horror prickling at his spine like needles.

"What—what _are_ you?" Kanan gasped, breathless. He tucked his knees into his chest as he jumped clear of the blades' reach once more. The figure's onslaught was ruthless, coming at him again and again and again. Kanan bit back a shout of terror as he ducked low and felt the heat the red blade humming dangerously above his head.

"I am an Inquisitor," the figure hissed, "and I was created to destroy your kind."

He leaped at Kanan again, blade thrashing wildly, but his movements were precise, skilled, educated. Kanan sprung away and bent backwards, nearly losing his balance as the tip of the blade swung out towards his chest. Barely having time to regain his footing before the saber came down again, he threw himself forward and into a roll. He came up to a stop on a bent knee, fighting for breath.

"Kanan!" he heard Hera call distantly, but the blood was pounding too hard in his ears to focus on anything but the red blade. He was getting dizzy and he wasn't sure how much longer he could do this.

"Fight me, you coward," the Inquisitor seethed, lurching forwards. "You must've been nothing more than a youngling when your kind died if this is how you fight. You're pathetic, and the stench of your fear in my nostrils is so thick I want to _gag_."

His lightsaber whirled in violent flashes of scarlet edged by white, its mere presence cold and shriveling despite its searing heat.

Suddenly, there were blaster shots. They whizzed past Kanan's ear and over his head. One struck the Inquisitor in the shoulder. He shouted sharply, and his head shot up. Kanan whipped his gaze over his shoulder.

There, Hera stood strong, gaze fierce and blaster smoking.

"Kanan, let's go!"

He didn't need to be told twice. Taking the opportunity, Kanan jumped to his feet and sprinted away from the Inquisitor, darting for Hera and the ship. He was almost there, just a few more paces, he was—

Something unseen rammed into his body and he let out a shout as it sent him flying to the ground. His jaw and shoulders slammed painfully against the durasteel floor of the hangar bay, and for a moment, all he could see was dizzying black and purple spots. Then his vision started to clear, seeing through the fog. His entire body ached and his heart was pounding. Blood dribbled down his forehead and he blinked it out of his eyelashes.

Shaking his head and fighting the nausea bubbling in his gut, Kanan struggled to his hands and knees.

A jarring clang sounded as something was thrown to the ground. The holocron skidded across the floor in front of him a few moments later.

"I'm tired of playing games," the Inquisitor growled. "Open the holocron, or she dies."

Kanan's head snapped up. Several paces away, the Inquisitor stood, Hera pulled against him. She writhed defiantly in his grasp, jerking her head back and forth, but he kept a tight arm hooked around her neck and his lightsaber hovered near her jaw.

"Let her go!" Kanan demanded, jumping to his feet, shoving back the pain. He made to sprint forwards, but stopped the second the Inquisitor brought the blade closer to her neck.

"Ah-ah," he clucked, shaking his masked head. "Open it first, boy. Then, maybe I'll let her go."

Fury boiled in Kanan's throat and he felt his blood light on fire.

But his terror was worse. He was paralyzed. Shrill, wintry dread wrenched his chest, the panic thick and swirling like venom in his stomach.

"Let go of me!" Hera yelled, jerking her chin away from the Inquisitor. She struggled in his grip, twisting and turning, trying to get away. But it was no use. The blade hummed ever closer to her neck while its blood-red light spilled onto her sage green skin.

"Don't do this!" Kanan screamed, desperate. The panic was raw in his throat. At his feet, the holocron trembled and sang, radiating fear and trepidation.

He needed to do something, say something, do something, _do_ something—

"Open it!" the Inquisitor demanded.

"He can't, you idiot!" Hera shouted, glaring up at her captor. "He's not a Jedi!"

Kanan almost screamed at her to _stop,_ stop _talking_ , please don't—

The Inquisitor smiled suddenly, a wicked thing that made Kanan sick as the air stilled.

"Open it, boy. Show her just what you are an open it."

"He _can't_ open the stupid box! Are you even listening?! Leave him alone, you good-for-nothing son of a bantha!"

Something in Kanan's heart cracked. He trembled as he tried to say her name. He wanted to cry.

"Hera…"

"Let us go! You have no reason to do this! He isn't what you think he is, and he isn't a Jedi, you're wrong! We—"

"Hera—"

"We don't have what you want, so let us go! You have no stupid reason to—"  
"Hera!"

His grief-stricken shout echoed throughout the hangar, bring the chaos to a standstill.

Hera stopped, her gaze unblinking as it met his in a heartbeat.

All that she needed to do was to look into his eyes. To look, see the desperate, broken lie, brimming with shameful tears, to know that it was true.

That Kanan was a Jedi.

Hera stared at him. Her eyes slowly widened, her soft lips slightly parting.

A tear slid down her cheek. Then she screwed her eyes shut and turned away.

It struck Kanan in the chest like a bolt of lightning. It choked him and filled him with dry, empty anguish. He felt himself crumbling away to ash.

"Well, what a terribly heartbreaking story this is," the Inquisitor sighed, tightening his grip on Hera. "But nothing's changed. You're still a Jedi, and she's still a damsel in distress. Open the holocron, or she dies."

But Kanan wasn't listening anymore. His lungs were scathing and his heart was aching, thoughts racing and nerves on fire. His hands had already found the disassembled hilt hooked onto his belt and had snapped them together into their rightful place.

He drew in a deep breath, let it wash over his core. Let the Force breathe against his heart.

Then he ignited the striking, sacred blue light of his blade.

In a flash of a movement, Kanan threw himself at the Inquisitor, catching him off guard. He stumbled backwards in a flimsy attempt to dodge his blow, letting go of Hera in the process. She dropped to the floor and scrambled to her feet a moment later.

Kanan carried on with a flurry of attacks. He reigned down a furious, reckless assault as he brought his blade down again and again and again on the Inquisitor. Blue against red, good against evil. In the background, he could hear Ran shouting and cursing, but he was too focused on the enemy in front of him to care.

Bright light flared around the whirling chaos that was the two figures. Sparks flew in the air, grunts and shouts echoed, teeth gritted, and jaws clenched.

The Force rippled around Kanan, bringing a supernatural strength to his bones and pooling in his chest. He felt it course through him as he jumped and slashed and leaped and flipped. He wailed his blade down remorselessly on the Inquisitor.

It felt _right_.

Leaving his lightsaber broken and silenced forever had meant that he could bury Caleb Dume and his sorrows there with it. It had seemed a reasonable exchange.

But now, as his blade gleamed a brilliant, cold blue for the first time in five years, he knew that he had _missed_ this, and that this was _right._

In the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of green, and he knew that Hera was running for the ship.

For years, Kanan had lost himself. He'd wandered in the dust and the dirt, half-awake and barely living, bled of all hope or care.

But with Hera, he had just started to find himself again.

"You won't get away, Jedi rat," the Inquisitor snarled, pressing his blade up against Kanan's.

"Shut up. You're annoying me," Kanan hissed, regrettably too focused on fighting to bother coming up with a better come-back. He gritted his teeth and shoved his blade down harder, pouring all of his might into it.

The Force sent a wave of strength behind him, and with a cut-short yell, the Inquisitor went flying backwards.

"Kanan, now!"

Kanan whirled to where he had heard Hera's voice, drinking it in like sweet nectar or a cure. She stood on the ramp of their ship, engines revved and hovering. She frantically waved her arms, beckoning him. "Let's _go!"_

His heart swelled and drummed in his chest as he realized that she'd waited for him.

She had _waited_ for him.

Without so much as a second's hesitation, he bolted towards the ship, leaving the Inquisitor struggling on the ground behind him. In a quick movement, he rolled to the ground, snatched up the holocron, and was back running on his feet.

As soon as he boarded the Ghost, the ray shield somehow flickered off and the gravity was sucked out of the room. A second later, Chopper—Force bless that droid—flew through the gap in the half-raised ramp and into the ship, beeping the whole way. Then it closed and they were safe inside.

The Ghost lifted into the air, up and into space.

Below them, The Inquisitor struggled to hold onto a railing as the vacuum of space threatened to suck him away to his death while Ran frantically worked the control panel to turn the shields back on.

The Inquisitor's glare was blistering. Kanan could feel it pierce his ribs through the durasteel hull of the Ghost.

Then the hyperdrive fired up and they jumped away into the emptiness of space.


	17. The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again. Sorry for the delay-- here's an absurdly long chapter! Anyway, on with it.
> 
> :')

Chapter 17: The Night

17 BBY- 2 Years after the Rise of the Empire

By the end of the next rotation, the Imperial compound on Raada would be blown to hell.

They just had a few more things left to do. The walkers had already been smelted to a lumpy ruin by their acid charges from a few weeks back, and they'd slipped through the wires to cut power again. In the black of night, they pushed on. The armory was laden with hidden charges. Mines decorated the eaves of the admin building.

The cause was coming to fruition.

Tomorrow night, when everyone was enjoying themselves at the festival, they would strike. All would be fine and dandy at the start of the festivities, but as the night dragged on and people began to get more and more drunk off corn liquor and wine, it would happen. Rex and Vartan, the two who would be carrying the charges, would press the trigger and blow it all to smithereens.

It will work, Ahsoka told herself. It will work.

"Ashla," came a soft voice—Chenna's—and Ahsoka looked down from where she sat perched on the chain link fence. Shadows cloaked the girl's face and veiled her fear, but it was still visible in the Force.

"What if this isn't the right thing to do?" She wrung her hands. "What if all of this is wrong?"

Her eyes fell to the rucksack full of charges slung across Ahsoka's shoulder, trembling at the thought that this was her own idea, her own plan to burn and destroy.

The poor girl had a bad case of the battle-jitters, as Echo would call it, although Fives always insisted shinie-shakes sounded better. Whatever the name, Chenna seemed to be going through it. All she needed was a little encouragement, a slap on the bucket, and maybe a cup of caf.

Ahsoka glanced at Kolvin to get an affirmative nod that he could take care of the rest of it from here. He did so, and taking the rucksack from her shoulder, hopped clumsily to the other side of the fence and disappeared to do some dirty work.

"Chenna," Ahsoka began calmly. She leaped off the fence and landed lightly next to her. "This is our best bet. The plan couldn't be better, and it's the safest for all the townspeople. None of them will be harmed."

Chenna nodded, but she didn't look convinced.

Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, Ahsoka gave her a sympathetic look. "War is hard," she said quietly.

"But this isn't war," Chenna whispered back. "This is just a rebellion."

Ahsoka blinked. Her brain stumbled and her words plunged to a halt.

"Right," she stammered eventually. Then she hastily withdrew her hand and turned back to the fence to see if Kolvin was done yet.

They had plenty more sabotage to commit, and the sun had only just set.

Ahsoka and Rex got back to their home at about the same time. They greeted each other with a small nod of their heads, but the air seemed empty and disquieted as it floated in the room.

They cleaned up the shop a little, made a pot of caf. They went over the battleplan again. They updated each other on how their groups had done.

Rex reported that him, Hestu, Banji, and two other townsfolk had successfully ruined the circuits connecting the alarm system in the trooper barracks. He told her Vartan's group of a few townsfolk had managed to sabotage the durasteel doors of the maintenance bunker so that they were welded shut. Ahsoka informed him that her, Chenna, Kolvin, and Kolvin's three friends had lined the walls of the artillery units with mines and laced the communications bunker with blastpowder and magnetic charges.

"Chenna's got the jitters," Ahsoka said.

"Ah," Rex hummed. He took a sip of his lukewarm caf. "Shinie-shakes were never fun."

That night, Ahsoka didn't make any move to eat dinner, and this time, Rex didn't push her, because he wasn't eating, either. Her stomach felt shriveled and small. His felt torn out and stomped on.

In some not-funny joke, they'd reverted to how they would've been before a battle or a campaign: restless, quiet. Nervous, albeit with some butterflies, but this time without the excitement, the thrill. This time it was just sick dread.

They sat uselessly at their little wooden table, letting the minutes scrape by as they waited for an excuse to do anything but sleep.

They made a second pot of caf well after the first one went cold.

"It will work," Rex said.

"I know," Ahsoka replied.

But she didn't. How could she? They didn't have their generals, or their medics, or their hundred other brothers, or their fifty-odd military tacticians with detailed maps and battleplans and precise strategies on how to infiltrate and defeat the enemy, just when and where and at what time.

No, no. This time, they were on their own.

Hours after they'd finally forced themselves to crawl into their racks and get some shut-eye, Ahsoka still couldn't sleep.

She tossed. She turned. She counted blurgs jumping over her rack and recited ancient Jedi tenets and prayers. She rehearsed the plan again, over and over and over until the memory of the map of Raada was burned into her brain, the imaginary whiff of blastpowder cemented into her nostrils.

Sleep stayed far away.

She decided the best solution was to sleep in Rex's rack. She argued with herself that it was because she was cold, or because she needed a change of environment and wanted to see what the bottom rack was like, or some silly, stupid nonsense like that. Convincing herself of a proper excuse seemed irrelevant at this point. But under the cover of night, she climbed in anyway.

At first, Rex startled, but he didn't object. He laid still on the mattress, his back to her and face to the wall, politely scooching a bit to the right to give her more space. Ahsoka didn't miss the way his breathing grew a bit sharp or how he crunched his knuckles into his palms.

But when she flipped back the thin sheet to see that Rex was very much indeed without a shirt, and it dawned on her that she was very well going to be in a tight spot next to him, it was her face that went stark red. Regret swallowed her whole.

She stuttered an apology and ducked her head. She turned to leave, back to her own bed, but Rex's hand snagged her wrist and he pulled her down on top of him.

Biting back a surprised yelp, she tried to land as gently as possible, so as not to disturb him, even though she clearly already had, and willed away the embarrassment simmering under her skin. She attempted to resettle herself, sliding her legs under the sheet, tried to shift her hips so she wasn't crushing him. Then she sank to the side, let her weight fall onto her shoulder, drew the sheet back up over them both. She let her head fall against the mattress, let her forehead rest against his arm.

But then Rex shifted, turned his whole body around so that he faced her. He looked her in the eye. The dimming candle she forgot to blow out seemed to trickle a flame into his eyes, all warm amber and honey.

He breathed out a little, and then, "Ahsoka."

And she looked at him, and there was something warm there, something vulnerable that she wanted to reach out and touch with her lips. So she leaned in and kissed him, kissed him softly until the creases in his brow smoothed and the tension in his shoulders all but melted away. It worked like a spell and he drifted into a light, hazy sleep.

She squeezed the hand left laying against her lekku and swallowed all the words unspoken between them.

Then she started to silently recite the battle plan again.

A murky stream of starlight filtered in from the dust-caked window, replacing the long-dead candlelight. She gazed at the little pink scars peppering Rex's back, lit faintly by the light, relics of a hundred battles and a life-long war.

Without thinking, she pressed her lips to a cluster of them on his shoulder blade. He didn't wake, but he shifted slightly and grunted in his sleep. Before he could slowly blink back to consciousness, she rolled over in the bed and tried again for sleep.

When he did rise moments later, he didn't bother her, but she felt his arm drowsily wrap around her waist and draw her close. His chest was warm and bare against her back. The nerve endings under her skin tingled and thawed like snow under a Raadan sun. She listened to him doze off a few minutes later, focusing on the feeling of his nose buried into her shoulder, breath slow and even as it swept down her neck.

Outside, the stars taunted her.

Hours later, the night was getting colder, dimmer, endless. Ahsoka shuffled closer to Rex, pulled the sheet tighter around them.

Her own breathing was getting too loud and obnoxious for her to listen to, so she resolved to listen to Rex's once more.

Even, placid. Like a pendulum or waves in an ocean. Breath caressing her cheek like a ghost. Fingers draped heavily over her hips. Chin resting against the dip in her montrals.

Softly, she reached out with the Force. Not to do anything, not to move, but just to feel the beating of his heart, to feel its gentle hum in the Force.

It was slow, steady. Warm like a stone drenched in sunlight and steady like a river. It trickled around her own aura, mingling in the fibers between them, brushing up against her fingertips and against her heart.

But it didn't stay—and when his blood started to pound and to race, Ahsoka knew immediately that he was having a nightmare. He'd had them before. She'd heard him and the men scream.

Before he could start to toss and turn, she woke him with a gentle shake and a whisper of his name. He shuddered awake, and, trembling, took her into his arms.

He touched her jaw and her lips and her neck with his fingertips, just ghosting over her skin, making sure that she was alright, that she was safe, that she was real.

It had been four years since Umbara, three since Ahsoka left, two since the Order and the death of all his brothers. Minutes since all of that and worse had played out in his mind.

Ahsoka traced lazy circles and idle spirals on his back, let him hold her close. She whispered his name and pressed her nose against his temple.

Slowly, he tumbled back into a fitful sleep. His arms were still around her, but his grip had loosened where his fingers had dug into the flesh on her waist.

Sleep mocked her in its cruel dance. It smiled and said, you will always be alone. Maybe you would've been better off as a Jedi, because then you'd be dead, just like the rest of your kind.

Sunrise approached slowly. But as soon as the tar-black sky gave way to dawn, Ahsoka rose to her feet and got dressed for the day. Rex followed quickly in her footsteps.

There wasn't much to do; everything had been set up in the nights past. It was just a waiting game, now. They played mechanics for the rest of the day, fixing broken astromechs, refurbishing old blasters, upgrading vibrospades and ion shovels and other outdated, pointless farming tools.

Ahsoka blew through her pile of work quicker than ever before. She sat hunched in one spot on the floor for hours, working hastily to complete everything, desperate to not let a single moment be wasted in uselessness. Her dark circles etched lunar caverns under her eyes, which were already getting red and bleary.

But she was alert. Her fingers moved fast and her mind faster, moving from bolt to screw to helical gear to durasteel spring with the speed of a youngling on their first-ever stolen cup of caf.

For most of the morning, the sinking, dragging dread of the night to come escaped her mind. But then she ran out of things to fix.

"Are there any ships in the yard we have to look at?" Ahsoka asked. She kept her gaze held to the pit-droid she'd just refurbished, looking for a single dent or ding out of place.

Rex, also working that morning, but not nearly at the speed she was, shook his head. "Finished up the last one yesterday."

"Blast."

So, Ahsoka started to clean.

She dug out the broom that had been lost in an astral abyss somewhere for the past few months and swept the entire floor. She rearranged every stack of gears and every bucket of bolts, putting them into neat, tucked-away places on the shelf. She found a rag and rid the counters of any dust there was to be seen for the first time in the better part of a year. She organized all of their client's items they'd been asked to fix on the shelves on the back wall, sorted by size and by category and arranged alphabetically by last name of client, left to right and top to bottom. She stripped the racks of their thin sheets and washed them in the 'fresher with cold water and a bar of cheap jogan-scented soap before hanging them on a line outside the front door to dry. The neighbors gave her weird looks, but she deduced it wasn't because she looked frazzled and sleep-deprived, but more likely that they'd never seen her do laundry before. She scrubbed the sink and the showerhead and the dull, metal-sheet excuse of a mirror with a rag and rubbing alcohol, and then, for good measure, she used her thumbnail to dig the grime out of the crevices between the tiles of the 'fresher floor.

Good, Ahsoka thought. There was nothing wrong with a bit of escapism.

Rex came into the 'fresher, holding a fresh cup of caf and wearing his oil-stained work clothes. He leaned against the doorway and took a sip of the steaming drink.

"I just fixed—what are you doing?"

Ahsoka didn't look up from the floor. She rubbed her knuckle against a particularly rough patch of dried soap.

"Cleaning."

Rex didn't reply. He stood and watched for a moment, taking in the sight and enjoying his caf. It was a well-deserved break from fixing a pneumo-plough that had proved to put up a bigger fight than a gundark on spice.

The sound of Ahsoka's knuckle squeaking on the tile bounced off the 'fresher walls and filled the silence.

"I made a fresh pot of caf, if you're running out of fuel," he offered.

"No, thanks."

Rex hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should ask again, then decided against it. It was probably best not to interfere. Ahsoka was cleaning, which was something to be thankful for, even if it was entirely derived from a bad case of the shinie-shakes.

Silver linings. Or something.

Afternoon came and went, and then it was evening, and then dusk. Then another cup of caf, then another dusting of the shelves. Then a cleaning of the caf machine, because Ahsoka couldn't quite remember the last time it was cleaned, if ever. Then some more sweeping, then a quick shower.

Then a knock at the door.

"Ashlaaa, Rex! C'mon, c'mon! Let's go! We're gonna be late!"

"That's Banji," Rex said, and Ahsoka's shoulders slumped in relief.

More pounding on the door.

"Come _on_ , guys!"

"Coming!" Ahsoka answered. She grabbed her boots and yanked them on, tossing Rex's towards him. He grabbed his decee, his coat, and his shoes, then started towards the door.

Ahsoka caught his elbow before he could twist open the knob.

"Do you have it?

Her eyes searched his before he nodded his head.

Then he turned the knob and let the door swing open.

"Ugh, what took you guys so long?" Banji complained immediately upon seeing their faces, but she grinned nonetheless. "The Lunar Festival is the _only_ holiday on Raada, so you absolutely _can't_ miss it!"

"Leave them be, Banji," said Chenna, ever-mothering. "It's only just started. We still have plenty of time."

"Plenty of time indeed," Vartan grunted lowly, hovering behind them all in the dark and making his presence known for the first time. "Are you both ready for the festivities?"

Ahsoka raised a brow at the double-entendre but nodded anyway.

Banji grabbed onto her hand and pulled her forward. "Then let's _go_!"

Outside, the sky was obsidian, but there was a bit of a cloud cover that left it muddled and smudged with grey. Vartan, Luda, and Chenna chatted lightly with Rex on their way. Banji and Hedala dragged Ahsoka by the hands and begged her to hurry up in between their excited squeals.

In the corner of her eye, Ahsoka saw Rex and Vartan communicate through silent nods and dull glances with hands tucked into their pockets, hands gripping something probably shaped like a detonator.

The festival was being held on the edge of town, right where the jagged line of old buildings melted into the waving, golden fields of grain, although Vartan made sure to gruffly point out that the fields wouldn't stay so waving or golden if the Imperials had their way. There were hundreds of candles strewn about, like someone had reached into a bag full of stars and tossed them haphazardly over the ground. Ribbons of bright orange and deep indigos draped the clearing in a garland, a bit jumbled and disorganized in design. Lazy, jaunty music wafted through the atmosphere, sounding something like gasan strings, marcan drums, and a harmonica. There was the aroma of a hearty stew and a couple of stands with bottles of wine and beer. Amidst it all, laughter, charming and almost mythical, floated on the breeze, a sound almost more beautiful than the old Jedi hymns that echoed through the temple.

"It's a shame we can't see the stars on the night of the Festival," Chenna murmured, gazing up at the sky. "That was always my favorite part."

"You don't need to see the stars to know they're there, sweetheart," Luda chuckled next to her, patting her on the shoulder. "Besides. I know you like the dancing even more. I'm sure Kolvin would dance with you if you asked!"

"I'd what?" Kolvin asked, coming up to stand next to them all. On his arm was an older lady, a wrinkly, blue-colored Rodian whom Ahsoka had never seen but assumed was his mother.

"Luda!" Chenna gasped. Her face scrunched up in embarrassment and she lightly shoved a chuckling Luda's arm away. Ahsoka smirked and Banji snickered.

Luda ignored her and moved over to Kolvin's mother. "Krissa, my dear," she greeted warmly, wrapping her into a big hug. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm well," Krissa sighed. She was frail and spindly and leaned heavily on a cane, but she smelled like daisies and musty lampshades. Ahsoka thought that if a too-strong breeze came by, she'd topple over. The resemblance between her and Kolvin was strong in the sharp jawline and the eyes.

"Are you looking forward to the festival?" Luda went on.

Krissa looked up at her questioningly. "What festival?"

"Kolvin's mom forgets things sometimes," Banji whispered, leaning towards Ahsoka. "Chenna said it has something to do with getting old."

A sinking feeling in her stomach, Ahsoka nodded her understanding.

"Let's find somewhere for you to sit, Ma," Kolvin said gently, stepping up towards his mother and placing a warm hand on her shoulder. Luda nodded once, a sweetness tinged with sorrow in her eyes. She took Krissa's hands in hers and squeezed them once while Kolvin went to find a chair to pull up.

"There you all are!" came a jovial holler, and the group of them all turned to see Hestu approaching them, clutching at least three more tankards than any man, or Bothan, should be able to hold at once.

"Getting the party started without us, I see," Vartan said, but he left Luda's side to give his friend a sturdy shake and a brotherly hug, complete with an unnecessarily-heavy thump on the back.

"Ready for the night?" Hestu asked, a gleam in his eye.

"Never been readier," Vartan answered lowly.

Ahsoka felt like she was going to be sick.

With a renewed bounce to his laugh, Hestu started to pass around the tankards. If he was nervous at all about the night's predetermined events, he didn't show it. He handed one to Vartan, one to Rex, one to Kolvin, who had found a chair, and one to Luda, who politely refused with a wave of her hand.

"You've gotta drink _somethin'_ , Luda—it's the night of the festival!" Hestu insisted.

"Oh, I'll drink somethin', but it sure as hell won't be your nasty moonshine," she quipped with a touch of sass.

"I thought you ran out of the moonshine," Rex said warily. He peered into the tankard. "Is this—"

"Oh, you betcha— only Raada's finest!"

Next to her, Luda sniffed and shook her head. "Come on, Ashla," she said, taking her arm, "let's go find some wine."

Thinking she would probably need it, Ahsoka accepted.

Ignoring the way Rex's jaw hit the floor, she wordlessly let Luda take her arm and lead her away. Trailing behind her was Chenna, who still occasionally cast a glance back at Kolvin.

Behind them, she heard Hestu chuckle and say, "what, does your woman never drink?", followed quickly by Rex's flustered "w-what? I don't—she's not my—!".

"I'll tell you," Luda started as they walked over to the beverage stands, "this festival has gotta be the best thing about our little home here. It's one of the few times that everyone gets along and has a lovely time, no talk of politics or land policies or whatnot. And it's also one of the only times we take a holiday—which, if you ask me, just means we should take more holidays! It's absurd, really. The folks out here just work too hard, and they deserve a little more time off."

"They'll only be working harder from here on out. Imperial hours are supposed to get longer," Chenna sighed.

Luda clucked her disapproval. "Not if we can help it."

The sick in Ahsoka's gut twisted back up again. She forced a small, brisk nod of her head to portray every bit the determined leader she was supposed to be that night.

Luda found the three of them some wine while Chenna and Ahsoka found glasses. The bottle was handed to Ahsoka, who, for all her strength from years of dedicated training, could not open it. With a _tsk_ , Luda plucked the bottle back from her hands and withdrew a spiral-shaped screw from her pocket. The cork popped free moments later.

"Hmm," Luda considered, swirling the wine in her cup once she poured it. She took a whiff then went in for a sip. "Fairly strong, full-bodied. It's got a rich aroma, if a bit tannic."

"I can taste the barrel," Chenna observed. "It's a bit smoky."

Luda hummed her agreement.

Ahsoka thought it tasted like how the ethanol smelled on the bacta patches Kix used to slap on her blasterburns after a battle, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

"It's good weather tonight. We really got lucky, unlike last harvest. It rained the whole night," Luda chatted lightly, eyes watching the townspeople milling about.

"Rain's never fun," Chenna said. "At least, not when it's cold out. I don't mind the humidity as much."

"I know a planet where it rains nonstop," Ahsoka put in, letting herself fall into the ebb and flow of casual conversation. She watched as a Sullustan farmer filled his tankard with beer from the tap. He cursed as the foam rose up and spilled out all over his hand. "I've never been, but Rex has. He told me it's cold and wet there all the time."

Chenna grimaced. "Sounds miserable."

"Probably was."

Minutes full of nonchalant conversation later, Ahsoka was still trying to fight the unease bubbling up in her stomach. She was running on low sleep, and it didn't help that everything they had been working towards for the better part of the last year was going off tonight in a big boom, quite literally. The cause had reached its most pivotal moment. Everything on Raada, absolutely everything, would change after tonight.

For better or for worse.

"So, Ashla," Luda began finishing her first glass and pouring herself another, "are you and Rex planning to stay around a while yet?"

Ahsoka tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you two usually move around a lot, don't you? I wasn't sure if after…" she made a funny gesture with her free hand that Ahsoka assumed meant the mutinous blowing up of all Imperial presence on Raada, "…all this, you two might move your shop elsewhere. A bigger planet, maybe, where you could make more money."

Ahsoka hesitated before answering. Her thumb traced the rim of her cup. "Well… we'll stay as long as we can, most likely. So far, there's been good business here. As mechanics, that is."

"Of course," Luda concurred.

"Farmers do need things fixed often," Chenna put in.

"I'm glad to hear that, hun. Vartan really likes you and Rex, and I know the little girls—not you, Chenna, I know you aren't little anymore, you're very much a young adult, but just your sisters— do, too. Plus, Raada's a good place to settle down, have a family. It may be quaint, but—"

Ahsoka choked. She felt the wine go up her nose as she spluttered and tried to regain her sense of normalcy. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, too far ahead? My bad. You two are young, so no need to rush."

Ahsoka swallowed and cleared her throat. She nodded weakly.

Luda went in for another sip of wine. Mauve lips hidden behind the glass, the woman smirked.

Still feeling the alcohol burning in her nostrils, Ahsoka tried for another sip of her own, swallowing back a cough and shuddering as it went down.

"We should head back to the others," Chenna said, glancing back towards where Vartan and the others stood. "Banji and Hedala are probably driving Kolvin nuts by now."

"I'm sure he can handle it, but for my husband's sake, we'll head on over," Luda chuckled.

When they returned, Banji and Hedala were indeed bouncing on their heels and pulling at Vartan and the others to go do or see something or another. Rex and Hestu had bottles of ebla beer in their hands, either having thrown away the moonshine or finished it, probably the latter. Vartan still sipped from his tankard.

"Let's _go_ , Kolvin! Just one dance. Please? You won't regret it. Or maybe you will, I dunno—but it'll be fun, promise!" Banji pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of the older Rodian. He glared and tried to shake her off like a wompfly buzzing too close to his ear.

"The dances haven't started yet, little one," Hestu broke in, patting Banji's crown of curls, "but as soon as it does, I call first dance with you and Hedala!"

Elated, Banji dropped Kolvin's arm and pumped a triumphant fist into the air. Beside her, Hedala giggled and squealed.

Ahsoka moved over to resume her place next to Rex, keeping her eyes on the girls. He leaned over and murmured something to her, but she was too caught off guard by the alluring scent of moonshine and cedar that drifted off his skin to register what he said. She wanted to lean in further and taste it, put her lips on his jaw or his neck.

Ahsoka cleared her throat, heat stinging her cheeks. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said Vartan and I decided to wait until the end of the festivities. We want people to be able to enjoy their time."

"Oh—oh, yes. Of course."

Yes, right. Imperials. Sabotage. Bombs. Explosions. That's where her mind should've been.

Rex peered at her closely. "Are you buzzed?"

"What?" Ahsoka snorted. She looked down at her glass of wine. It was nearly drained, but she'd only had one. Was she really that much of a lightweight? It's not like she'd ever had the chance to find out. But that would be a little sad. "No, I'm not buzzed. That's absurd."

"Hmm."

Ahsoka started thinking about the cause. About Imperials and bombs and explosions. She stared down at the remaining wine in her glass, having lost interest in drinking it and swirled it around instead. It formed a purple vortex that she wished would suck her away like a black hole.

She turned to Rex to say something, to ask him about the plan one more time, but he was deep in conversation with Kolvin about work and farming and other meaningless things she didn't want to bother with. They were starting a rebellion tonight, setting things ablaze tonight, and she wanted to talk about that. Not farming.

Ahsoka knew the plan was going to work. It was solid, it was robust, it was well-worked. Detailed inside and out, traced over and over again until perfection. It would be fine.

But what ifs and maybes slept on the back of her tongue, bitter and brooding.

Then the music started, or got more intense, rather, and things started to pick up. The festival was filled with a sudden spry and merry delight that made it feel like the air was sparkling around them. Ahsoka was dragged out of her dark and convoluted thoughts by sounds of strings plucking and feet thumping and people laughing. Unbidden, a smile touched her lips.

Huddled together on the edge of town, the people of Raada celebrated. They gathered and played like grown-up children. They dragged around itchy hay bales, compared their ridiculously swollen hubba gourds and blumpkins, and dunked their faces in pails of water to swap spit in a fishing trip for meilooruns.

But they also played the marcan drums and the fiddle, linked arms, and danced. As Ahsoka watched, some of it was achingly familiar; she could catch a whiff of the archaic lightsaber forms in the side-by-side, two-lined dances the townspeople performed. But there was something much more carefree about their movements, as though their joints were unhinged while their limbs dangled gleefully with their grins all toothy and wide.

At first, Ahsoka stayed put next to Rex, watching rather than participating. Hestu had already disappeared into the throng of dancers, taking a squealing Hedala and an embarrassed Chenna with him. Banji had finally managed to drag Kolvin into it as well, though Ahsoka felt his change of heart had more to do with how many times Banji told him he was "being a weenie" more than anything else. Vartan and Luda danced as well, swinging to a rhythm practiced for decades, their hands clasped together with his arm wrapped rightfully around her waist and hers tight across his neck. They were lost in each other's gazes, smiling as they danced as one under the stars.

Eventually, Banji came back to beg Ahsoka and Rex to join them, quite unsuccessfully, Hedala at her heels. Rex remained rigid in his position not to dance, but ultimately, and much to the joy of the girls and the amusement of Rex, Ahsoka started to crack. With triumphant cheers, the girls dragged her out by her elbow to the wobbly circle of dancers.

Around them, the music and thrill of the night rang in the air, bouncing off the stars as it tinkled around stomping feet and clapping hands. Hedala giggled at Ahsoka's awkwardness while Banji promised her that dancing was fun, even if it looked a little funny.

At first, Ahsoka struggled to let go of the stiff, pinned movements of the dance she'd been raised in, of kyber crystals and saber hilts, of marble temple walls and meditated postures. But slowly, very slowly, she eased into their liquid movements, her spine uncoiling and her narrow hips swaying to the thrum of the melody, her palms clammy and wrapped tight around the tiny ones of Banji and Hedala.

It was a bubbling, prickling feeling of excitement and bliss that she knew she hadn't felt in years.

In her heart, it just felt _right_. In the tipsy, candle-lit dancers around her, the Force sang.

Ahsoka danced her way from circle to circle, clutching the hands of dozens of strangers and twirling under the arms of shadows. Surrounding her like an unseen cloak, laughter and smiles rang all around like the Temple bells on a holy morning. She jumped and she skipped and she dipped and she spun, like a leaf let loose in the wind, whirling in and among the branches, brushing the ground but never quite touching it.

After what felt like minutes but easily could've been hours, Ahsoka reluctantly fell out of step for a much-needed break. She staggered her way back over to Rex, who remained not-dancing next to Kolvin's dozing mother, a recently-retired Vartan and Luda, Kolvin, and Chenna, who were deep into people-watching the crowd.

Breathless and sticky with sweat, she leaned in close to Rex. She pressed a palm against his shoulder, sagging her weight into his. Her nose got dangerously close to his chin. She hated the air that was between them.

"Rex," she gasped, "you've got to try dancing."

"Not a chance."

There was a spark in the deep amber of his eyes that hadn't been there before, something like a want, or a need, something that made her insides feel all twisty and tingly and excited.

"Banji will call you a weenie," she teased. A trace of challenged glistened in her voice, daring of something more than just dancing. Her arm twined its way up his chest and around his shoulders. Her fingertips tapped to the rhythm of the music on the nape of his neck.

"Maybe I am a weenie."

"Now, that's not the Rex I know."

"Then maybe you've got him all wrong," he said, and suddenly, his voice was a deep and husky growl that burned like embers and set fire to her belly.

His fingers hooked into her beltloops and he tugged her forward by her hips, drawing her even closer, so close that her chest was pressed against his and she could feel his heartbeat on her own. As if surprised by his own actions, his face went crimson and his knuckles went slack as though to meant let her go. But Ahsoka would have none of that. She fisted a hand into his shirt and dared him with her eyes to even _think_ about trying it.

She looked up at him with desire dripping off her tongue. "Are you so sure about that?"

Her head was spinning, and she wasn't quite sure what she was doing, and it was clear he wasn't, either, and she couldn't help but remember with itching embarrassment how absolutely sweaty and sticky and gross she still was from the dancing. But a devious smirk pulled at the corners of her soft, dark lips, and she just wanted him closer, closer, and this must've been what it felt like to be half of a whole, because her entire body was trembling with want. She pressed her thigh harder against his leg.

In the corner of her eye, she could see Luda's smug grin and hear Vartan's knowing chuckle. She could see Banji making a face, too, something funny with her eyes criss-crossed and her tongue sticking out in disgust.

Rex let out a held breath, bringing her back to him. She melted into the way she felt his fingers spread across her hips and squeeze. She heard her name in his voice, but she knew he never said her real name in public, and it was so hushed and so quiet that she was sure it was just the late-night wind. But then he took her chin in his fingers and drew her so close that his lips brushed against her montral.

He said her name, breath hot on her cheek, and she felt like she'd lost her ability to breathe.

" _Ahsoka_."

His hand traced its way from her chin to her neck, to her collarbone to her lekku, to the side of her chest, to the small of her back, fingers dipping a bit lower, wrinkling into the fabric of her tunic, sending chills tingling like stars across her sienna skin the entire way down. Her breath hitched in her throat and she visibly shuddered, biting down on her lip, feeling like her chest was full of fireworks and blast charges and she was certain she was going to explode if he just flipped the switch.

Then his other hand was cupping her face, bringing her back to see him once more. His knuckles grazed against her cheekbone and his thumb brushed against her lips.

She was caught. She was lost, drowning in this pool of browned amber and gold, of drizzled honey and gilded sunshine, swirling with warmth and tenderness and want and need and _love._ Something so lost to her up until that moment, something that been missing, was right there in front of her, staring at her and touching her lips and saying her name.

Rex, she thought, Rex, Rex, _Rex._

She was trapped. She was still drowning.

And then, slowly, he tilted his head towards hers. He pulled her closer, closer, his fingers feather-light against her jaw and sinking into her waist, and she let him. Her eyes fluttered close and she felt a wanting breath escape his lips.

In a sweeping movement, he kissed her.

Gentle, at first, almost hesitant, but then they sank into the touch, let their lips press into each others.

Ahsoka leaned back, sucked in a breath, let her eyes flare open. Then she crashed into him with full force.

It was a battle, push and pull, like a surge of waves in an ocean; his hands grabbing at her sides, fingertips flickering across her neck, palm pressed against her, and she leaned into the movement, ached as though his touch burned her with a delight that she craved. She whispered his name in between breaths, as though she couldn't get it through her head that he was real and this was happening and he was _still here_ , she hadn't lost him. And she wouldn't. He'd always be there.

They kissed, harder, hungry and desperate and needing _more_. His eyes met hers for a moment and she glimpsed a flicker of desire in a sea of gold.

She was still sticky with sweat and she knew she had pit stains, and dammit she _knew_ Luda would never let her hear the end of this later, and this definitely wasn't helping her case in telling them that she and Rex _weren't_ together, but she didn't care. She fisted her knuckles into his not-blond hair and dragged him down closer, closer, closer, demanding his touch.

Rex caved and grunted as his hands came back up to cup her face, thumbs caressing the arcs of white on her cheeks, lifting her to her toes so that he could kiss her, properly, at the right damn angle.

She let him for a moment before yanking his arm back to her hip and pressing her tongue against his lips.

It was everything. He was everything.

Then there was a scream.

Rex lurched backwards and Ahsoka whirled around, her stomach heaving as everything warm and igniting inside of her was replaced with hazy confusion and firey dread.

"It's this one, I swear it! This is the force-wielding brat I told you about!"

She took up a fighting stance, dazed with vision blurred as she swung her head around the clearing to search wildly for them, whoever it was, whoever had found her out, who had ruined everything, who had spilled her secret, spoken her death sentence.

In the corner of her eye, she glimpsed white. There was another scream, this one more of a wail, and Ahsoka whipped her head to face it.

When her eyes met the storm troopers, her heart stopped.

Behind her, Banji shrieked.

" _Hedala_!"

The troopers were reaching for her, grabbing her tiny wrists and yanking her to a standstill. She writhed and thrashed and cried out, innocent eyes wide and terrified. A few steps away stood Tibbola, drunk, sadistic, and jabbing a wobbly, gnarled finger in the child's direction.

Before Ahsoka could act, before she could do or say or think _anything_ , Vartan appeared. He charged up to the storm trooper—troopers, there were at least six—and demanded to know what was going on.

"All force-sensitives are to be brought to Coruscant, under order of the Emperor," one trooper replied. Ahsoka was still shaking.

Vartan snarled. "She's just a child!"

"All force-sensitives are to be brought to Coruscant, under _order_ of the _Emperor_ ," he repeated rigidly. Then added, almost derisively, " _immediately_."

Ahsoka didn't even have time to blink before everything went to hell.

Vartan's hand flashed to under his coat. The trooper was fast, but not as fast, and his blaster rifle was much bulkier than Vartan's pistol.

Then a shot sounded in the air and chaos erupted.

There were bullets. Screams, running. Dust clouded in the air from stampeding feet that had abruptly stopped dancing. Someone knocked over a candle and the hanging ribbons caught fire.

Before Ahsoka realized, she had thrown herself at the nearest trooper and started throwing punches and kicks. It took him off guard and he poorly tried to dodge her blows. Her fist landed on the black cloth between his chest plate and shoulder pauldron, sending him stumbling, and she gave him half a second before spinning on her heel and roundhouse kicking him in the jaw.

He fell to the ground, and she moved on to the next one.

It was mechanical. Her training pulsed through her, everything Anakin had ever taught her, and she took down one after another after another. A well-placed strike to the head. A sweeping out of her leg knocking them off their feet. A front flip and then a knee to the groin.

Beside her, she saw Kolvin aiming his blaster at a nearby trooper. Chenna ducked behind him, aiming hers as well, something Ahsoka didn't even realize she had, but she couldn't dwell on it before another trooper came at her and her attention was diverted.

She heard more than saw Hestu roaring in the throng of fighting, and a moment later, she saw him push a trooper to the ground using only his brute strength and sheer size.

There must have been reinforcements. There must have been more troopers. They must have been nearby, because now they were all _there_.

Somewhere, lost in the crowd, she heard a voice that she thought might be Vartan's call out.

"Now, Rex, _now!"_

And like an awful, horrible groan of death, explosions rang out in the distance.

Stunned, the chaos came to a standstill. Fighting villagers looked up in fear, even the ones who had known. Cowering children clamped hands over their ears. Shooting storm troopers went rigid with surprise.

And for a moment, Ahsoka breathed, because this was all going to work and the troopers would run to the explosions and they could grab Hedala and escape to their refuge in the caves.

But it didn't.

Someone fired a blaster, and the staggering thrall of violence continued.

With a battle cry full of fury and horror, Ahsoka pushed on. She fought. She fought and she ran and she clawed and she bled, desperately scanning the clearing for a sign of anyone, to make sure they were okay, that no one was hurt, no one was getting dragged away, no one was dying under her watch.

Blood crashed like a tidal wave through her body, about to burst out of her skin. She sprung back in the air, dodging blaster fire in a weightless arc, but a blast grazed her shoulder and sent her tumbling to the ground. She managed to get out of the dirt and on her feet just in time to avoid the next round of fire, aimed at her heart, and she threw herself to the right. She sprinted in a dance around the trooper, dizzying him and herself, but at least she knew what she was doing. She was trained for this. She was raised for this.

She leaped, letting the wind carry her, and landed on a hand and two feet a breath away from the trooper. Before he could re-adjust his blaster, she swung out low with a leg and knocked him to the ground. She pounced, snatched up his blaster, and put a well-aimed shot to his leg.  
He cried out and she turned away.

In the blur of chaos, Ahsoka paused for the only moment she could grab to look for Hedala. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and she became all too aware of the blood rushing through her veins. Like the dancing, she was sticky with sweat, but this was mixed with dirt and blood and grime. She tasted it, bitter and metallic, in her mouth, felt it trickling down her shoulder from the blaster, felt sweat rolling down her spine. Felt every swollen bruise building in her bones.

But Ahsoka didn't have time for this. She stumbled dazedly to a halt, searched the clearing with desperate eyes. There was smoke, flames. Blasters. A painting of white plastoid and dull colors whirling about in the chaos.

She couldn't see Hedala. Her screams were drowned out and Ahsoka couldn't find her.

Out of nowhere, someone shoved her, and she was sent flying to the ground elbows-first. Something heavy landed on her a heartbeat later, crushing her to the dirt and knocking the air out of her lungs. The weight disappeared and she rolled onto her back, gasping relentlessly for air she couldn't get. In the corner of her eye, she saw Rex staggering to his feet.

He must have pushed her. He landed on her. What bullet did she miss?

She watched as he took up a defensive stance to face the trooper shooting at them. He reached for his blaster, but it wasn't there.

Ahsoka felt something shaped like a decee pressed under her thigh.

Rex didn't have time to waste. He lunged for a beer bottle on a nearby table and, with a shout, grabbed it and whirled, smashing it into the weak spot on trooper's cloth-covered neck.

The bottle shattered and the trooper tottered backwards, legs wobbling. His blaster clattered to the ground and a gloved hand flew to his neck. Crimson pooled in the cracks of his black-leather fingers and dribbled down his knuckles.

He collapsed to the ground.

Head reeling, Ahsoka dragged herself onto her stomach, fighting every urge to wretch onto the ground and failing. Coughing and spluttering the contents of her stomach, she wiped the sick off her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed herself to her knees, then unsteadily to her feet.

She turned to shout something at Rex, she didn't know what, but maybe something like _thank you_ , or _your blaster is here_ , or _I love you,_ but he was gone, and so was the decee. He'd disappeared into the smoke storm of battle. Something she'd seen him do for years on end, something once so natural, but this time, it was infinitely more terrifying.

Trembling, Ahsoka stared at the clearing. She gave herself two seconds and before throwing herself back into the fight.

One, two.

At some point, lost in the chaos of fire and shots and striking, she saw Hedala. The troopers maintained an iron grip around her tiny wrists.

She took a step forward, ready to pummel them to the ground or kick them to oblivion, but as always, Vartan was one step ahead of her. He charged the troopers, arms outstretched and blaster aimed.

Then there was a shot and his body was sent staggering backwards.

With blurred vision, Ahsoka watched him fall to the ground. She stared with rippling horror as he did not get up. She felt more than heard Luda's bleeding shriek. Her body was numb as sheer dread stilled her body in a curse, swaying on shaking legs.

She had to get to Vartan. She had to get him on his feet.

She teetered and wobbled as she lurched in his direction. But her foot tripped on something lumpy and she toppled to the ground, just barely catching herself on weak elbows as she scraped them to the bone. Ignoring the stinging of fresh wounds, she tried to yank her foot out from under whatever it was, but it stayed stuck. She whipped her head around to find the problem.

Chenna's lifeless body stared back at her, gaze dull and sightless and full of stars.

Ahsoka's blood withered and she choked.

Her arm lay twisted out, knuckles bruised and fingernails bloodied, palm stretched towards where Hedala struggled, as though even in death, she wouldn't let anyone take her little sister away.

Enough, Ahsoka decided.

Enough.

She rose to her feet. In the ashes, she saw Hedala, and clarity struck her like lightning.

She reached out to the Force, felt it spark in her blood. Felt it bleed in the very fibers of the air and the earth and the sky around her.

She let it course through her veins. In one movement, she let its power surge.

The storm troopers went flying.

It happened all in an instant. The smoke was pushed out of the small little clearing, forming an unearthly dome and leaving a still, silent scene of destruction scattered with licking flames and a crystal night sky. It was unreal, as though time itself had grinded to a halt. The troopers were strewn across the ground. They did not get back up. Hedala sprawled, free, on the dirt. Ahsoka's breath caught in her throat.

Then the little girl flinched, pushed herself to her elbows.

Across the way, Ahsoka met Rex's gaze. Warm brown trickled a sanctuary into her stormy sea of blue and she felt an overwhelming, brilliant, tearful sense of relief.

He dropped his blaster took a limping step towards her. He stretched out his arms, reaching for her, and started to run.

Then his eyes went wide with horror and his shout carried through the air with her name—her real name— on his tongue.

Pain, sharp and harrowing, struck her skull.

She saw stars. A dizzying, inky darkness flooded her vision.

In a deep and forgotten cavern of her mind, she heard Anakin's voice.

" _Ahsoka_."

And then all she saw was black.


End file.
